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out。 He looked at Manuel。
¨Go on out there；〃 Manuel said。
The gypsy trotted out。 Manuel set down the jug and watched。 He wiped his face with his handkerchief。
The critic of El Heraldo reached for the bottle of warm champagne that stood between his feet； took a drink； and finished his paragraph。
¨the aged Manolo rated no applause for a vulgar series of lances with the cape and we entered the third of the palings。〃
Alone in the centre of the ring the bull stood； still fixed。 Fuentes； tall； flat…backed； walking towards him arrogantly； his arms spread out； the two slim； red sticks； one in each hand； held by the fingers； points straight forward。 Fuentes walked forward。 Back of him and to one side was a peon with a cape。 The bull looked at him and was no longer fixed。
His eyes watched Fuentes； now standing still。 Now he leaned back； calling to him。 Fuentes twitched the two banderillos and the light on the steel points caught the bullˇs eye。
His tail went up and he charged。
He came straight； his eyes on the man。 Fuentes stood still； leaning back； the banderillos pointing forward。 As the bull lowered his head to hook； Fuentes leaned backward； his arms came together and rose； his two hands touching； the banderillos two descending red lines； and leaning forward drove the points into the bullˇs shoulder； leaning far in over the bullˇs horns and pivoting on the two upright sticks； his legs tight together； his body curving to one side to let the bull pass。
¨Ol？！〃 from the crowd。
The bull was hooking wildly； jumping like a trout； all four feet off the ground。 The red shafts of the banderillos tossed as he jumped。
Manuel； standing at the barrera； noticed that he hooked always to the right。
¨Tell him to drop the next pair on the right；〃 he said to the kid who started to run out to Fuentes with the new banderillos。
A heavy hand fell on his shoulder。 it was Zurito。
¨How do you feel； kid？〃 he asked。
Manuel was watching the bull。
Zurito leaned forward on the barrera； leaning the weight of his body on his arms。 Manuel turned to him。
¨Youˇre going good；〃 Zurito said。
Manuel shook his head。 He had nothing to do now until the next third。 The gypsy was very good with the banderillos。 The bull would come to him in the next third in good shape。 He was a good bull。 It had all been easy up to now。 The final stuff with the sword was all he worried over。 He did not really worry。 He did not even think about it。 But standing there he had a heavy sense of apprehension。 He looked out at the bull； planning his faena； his work with the red cloth that was to reduce the bull； to make him manageable。
The gypsy was walking out towards the bull again； walking heel…and…toe； insultingly； like a ballroom dancer； the red shafts of the banderillos twitching with his walk。 The bull watched him； not fixed now； hunting him； but waiting to get close enough so he could be sure of getting him； getting the horns into him。
As Fuentes walked forward the bull charged。 Fuentes ran across the quarter of a circle as the bull charged and； as he passed running backwards； stopped； swung forward； rose on his toes； arms straight out； and sunk the banderillos straight down into the tight of the big shoulder muscles as the bull missed him。
The crowd were wild about it。
¨That kid wonˇt stay in this night stuff long；〃 Retanaˇs man said to Zurito。
¨Heˇs good；〃 Zurito said。
¨Watch him now。〃
They watched。
Fuentes was standing with his back against the barrera。 Two of the cuadrilla were back of him； with their capes ready to flop over the fence to distract the bull。
The bull； with his tongue out； his barrel heaving； was watching the gypsy。 He thought he had him now。 Back against the red planks。 Only a short charge away。 The bull watched him。
The gypsy bent back； drew back his arms； the banderillos pointing at the bull。 He called to the bull； stamped one foot。 The bull was suspicious。 He wanted the man。 No more barbs in the shoulder。
Fuentes walked a little closer to the bull。 Bent back。 Called again。 Somebody in the crowd shouted a warning。
¨Heˇs too damn close；〃 Zurito said。
¨Watch him；〃 Retanaˇs man said。
Leaning back； inciting the bull with the banderillos； Fuentes jumped； both feet off the ground。 As he jumped the bullˇs tail rose and he charged。 Fuentes came down on his toes； arms straight out； whole body arching forward； and drove the shafts straight down as he swung his body clear of the right horn。
The bull crashed into the barrera where the flopping capes had attracted his eye as he lost the man。
The gypsy came running along the barrera towards Manuel； taking the applause of the crowd。 His vest was ripped where he had not quite cleared the point of the horn。 He was happy about it； showing it to the spectators。 He made a tour of the ring。 Zurito saw him go by； smiling； pointing to his vest。 He smiled。
Somebody else was planting the last pair of banderillos。 Nobody was paying any attention。
Retanaˇs man tucked a baton inside the red cloth of a muleta； folded the cloth over it； and handed it over the barrera to Manuel。 He reached in the leather sword…case； took out a sword and； holding it by its leather scabbard； reached it over the fence to Manuel。 Manuel pulled the blade out by the red hilt and the scabbard fell limp。
He looked at Zurito。 The big man saw he was sweating。
¨Now you get him； kid；〃 Zurito said。
Manuel nodded。
¨Heˇs in good shape；〃 Zurito said。
¨Just like you want him；〃 Retanaˇs man assured him。
Manuel nodded。
The trumpeter； up under the roof； blew for the final act； and Manuel walked across the arena towards where； up in the dark boxes； the president must be。
In the front row seats the substitute bullfight critic of El Heraldo took a long drink of warm champagne。 He had decided it was not worthwhile to write a running story and would write up the corrida back in the office。 What the hell was it anyway？ Only a nocturnal。 If he missed anything he would get it out of the morning papers。 He took another drink of the champagne。 He had a date at Maximˇs at twelve。 Who were these bullfighters anyway？ Kids and bums。 A bunch of bums。 He put his pad of paper in his pocket and looked over towards Manuel； standing very much alone in the ring； gesturing with his hat in a salute towards a box he could not see high up in the dark plaza。 Out in the ring the bull stood quiet； looking at nothing。
¨I dedicate this bull to you； Mr。 President； and to the public of Madrid； the most intelligent and generous in the world；〃 was what Manuel was saying。 It was a formula。 He said it all。 It was a little too long for nocturnal use。
He bowed at the dark； straightened； tossed his hat over his shoulder； and； carrying the muleta in his left hand and the sword in his right； walked out towards the bull。
Manuel walked toward the bull。 The bull looked at him； his eyes were quick。 Manuel noticed the way the banderillos hung down on his left shoulder and the steady sheen of blood from Zuritoˇs pic…ing。 He noticed the way the bullˇs feet were。 As he walked forward； holding the muleta in his left hand and the sword in his right； he watched the bullˇs feet。 The bull could not charge without gathering his feet together。 Now he stood square on them； dully。
Manuel walked towards him； watching his feet。 This was all right。 He could do this。 He must work to get the bullˇs head down； so he could go in past the horns and kill him。 He did not think about the sword； not about killing the bull。 He thought about one thing at a time。 The coming things oppressed him； though。 Walking forward； watching the bullˇs feet； he saw successively his eyes； his wet muzzle； and the wide； forward…pointing spread of his horns。 The bull had light circles about his eyes。 His eyes watched Manuel。 He felt he was going to get this little one with the white face。
Standing still now and spreading the red cloth of the muleta with the sword； pricking the point into the cloth so that the sword； now held in his left hand； spread the red flannel like the jib of a boat； Manuel noticed the points of the bullˇs horns。 One of them was splintered from banging against the barrera。 The other was sharp as a porcupine quill。 Manuel noticed while spreading the muleta that the white base of the horn was stained red。 While he noticed these things he did not lose sight of the bullˇs feet。 The bull watched Manuel steadily。
Heˇs on the defensive now； Manuel thought。 Heˇs reserving himself。 Iˇve got to bring him out of that and get his head down。 Always get his head down。 Zurito had his head down once； but heˇs come back。 Heˇll bleed when I〃 start him going and that will bring it down。
Holding the muleta； with the sword in his left hand widening it in front of him； he called to the bull。
The bull looked at him。
He leaned back insultingly and shook the widespread flannel。
The bull saw the muleta。 It was a bright scarlet under the arc…light。 The bullˇs legs tightened。
Here he comes。 Whoosh！ Manuel turned as the bull came and raised the muleta so that it passed over the bullˇs horns and swept down his broad back