File:One way round South America, from manuscript, notes and letters of Delight Sweetser Prentiss illustrated from photographs (1905) (14578794157).jpg

Identifier: onewayroundsouth00pren (find matches)
Title: One way round South America, from manuscript, notes and letters of Delight Sweetser Prentiss ... illustrated from photographs
Year: 1905 (1900s)
Authors: Prentiss, Delight Sweetser. (from old catalog)
Subjects:
Publisher: Indianapolis, The Bobbs-Merrill company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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rt beats fast. Truly it was well done.Bravo, Chaleco! and you find yourself clap-ping your hands! The bull, the ethics of thesport are forgotten. It is the skill, the daring,that attracts. There are those who say that bull-fighting is not dangerous. From the outside ofthe ring they pronounce it childs play, but I ven-ture to say they would not accept an invitation tochange places with Chaleco. These attacks andescapes are sometimes too thrilling for the noviceto watch. Several times I turned my head, find-ing the excitement too great a strain. OnceChaleco stood for some seconds facing the angrybull, his feet set together, not four feet awayfrom him. Another time he turned his back onthe furious but puzzled animal and walked coollyaway, while a hushed Ah! of admiration andappreciation came from the crowd. The bugle blows again. This is the last act.The bull is doomed. The matador, the killer,takes the stage. The little company circle aroundhim, the gay colors of their costumes making a
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IMPRESSIONS OF A BULL-FIGHT 153 bright touch in an intense picture. They edge al-ways toward the bull as he goes about the ring,scattering if he attacks them, but coming cau-tiously back again. The matador has thrownaway cap and cloak. He looks repressed, intent.The noises in the crowd die away one by one.In his left hand he holds a red cloth mounted ona stick; in his right, a sword. Several times heangers the bull with the flag so that he charges,but the matador springs away. He does notstrike. Kill him, Corcito! the crowd cries,Good boy! Kill him! The bull charges again.Are you anxious to know just how he struckhim? Forgive me that; that I can not tell you.I did not once find the courage to look when thematador made the thrust. When I looked againthe bull was running about the ring with thesword buried deep in his back, between theshoulders. The hilt and a part of the blade stoodout and dark crimson blood was pouring downhis glossy neck. It was not a death blow, alas!They waited a m

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