Townsend Harris High School - Crimson Gold Yearbook (Flushing, NY)

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So marched the toreadors to the Gover- nor's box, there bowed, received his saluta- tion-and then, off to prepare for the work of the afternoon. The picadors wheeled their jades, left the ring. The toreadors ar- ranged themselves in a semi-circle about the sides of the arena. The trumpeter, in his stand at the very top of the tiers of seats, stood at attention, the mouthpiece of his in- strument to his lips. A waved arm from an attendant gave the signal. The note sounded clear and loud, only to be drowned out by a furious bellow, as the great bull dashed into the ring. Wild and panting mad he came, from the dark cave that had been his home for the past three days. Dripping saliva coated his tongue dead white, for he had been starved, too. V Around and around the great circle he galloped, his hoarse, thunderous voice pour- ing out the tale of all the woes that were his --for that is the secret of the Corrida! Run the bull! Tire the bull! Cleverly exhaust the bull! And then dispatch him-neatly, skill- fully. The enraged creature was slowing down now, the sign for the toreadors to start their work. The younger, more inexperienced boys did this, for the beast had to be fatigued to allow the great man to execute his mas- terly passes. And so they stepped out, at- tracting, enticing the enormous animal with the waving of the cape, leading him here, sending him there, striving at every moment to gain that favor of the crowd which might some day make of them another Salvatorf' Nonchalantly the great man watched them. A sudden nod of approval escaped him, as one of the younger and more reckless of the toreadors executed a particularly dangerous and well-done manoeuver. His turn was to come soon, and he would delight these people, so starved of what was really line work, with an exhibition of what great and aristocratic crowds in Madrid thronged to see at every Corrida in which he took part. And now, the picadors. Exciting, this, for those sadistic ones who delight in seeing the entrails torn from a horse. The procedure was the same as usual. The apic, his calves protected by iron shields, allowing the bull to attack him on his blindfolded horse pressed the lance into the shoulder of the animal, held on and pushed as long as he 9 page thirty-eight

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one to remember! What a man this Sal- vator is! I have never seen one to compare with him. How glad I am that I am able to see so wonderful a person. There is no one here in Ceuta who can compare with him. Jaime turned, looked at her. MA bull- fighter? Bah? Give me but his cloak., his costume, his sword, and lo-clothed a bull- Hghter, I am a bullfighter, can do as well, better than he, in the ring. Solita gave him a sidelong glance from beneath uplifted eyebrows. '4Really, Jaime ? The brazen call of a trumpet issued from within the arena, suddenly all was hurry and bustle outside. The throng hastened gaily through the entrance, escorts, thrusting pesetas into the hand of the renter, snatched the pairs of pillows he offered. In an amaz- ingly short time, the seats were filledg a brief moment of getting settled, and then,-eager expectancy. The band struck up the stirring march, cheers and cries from the spectators: 6'Sal- vator! Bravo Salvatorlw With a flourish, the entrance of the bullfighters was heralded- there they were! Marching evenly, the same measured dis- tance between each of them, the toreadors, the famous matador foremost among them, entered the arena first. A gallant sight they made, in their picturesque, gold braided cos- tumes, cloak over one arm, the other swing- ing free. Brave cloaks, these, and fine, orange on one side, carmine on the other- but destined to be dirtied and dragged and torn within but a few minutes. Following immediately after, rode the picadorsg riding easily, but on the sorriest nags seen in many a day, nags unfit for any use but to be gored by the bulls, and there- fore now ridden, later to be blindfolded, into the ring. With lances in stirrup cups they rodeg long lances, wood lances, with the heavy iron point and the cruel shield which forbids that point more than three inches of way into the bullis shoulder. For it is for- bidden that the picador kill the bull. That is the right of the matador, and jealously it is reserved for him. And last came the other horses-good horses, these, and handsomely plumed and belled. For these horses take revenge for their kind on the bull, it is they who drag him, dead, from the ring. page thirty-seven Q,

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could, and then, as soon as the horse was thrown over and the bull began goring at its abdomen, made sure that he was on the side of his steed away from the savagely tearing beast. Two horses were used on this bull, the spectators laughing and clapping hands in glee. But this is, some say, the least part of the Corrida. It does, however, tire the bull. Banderillas! A youthful toreador grasped a pair of the long, tape-wound sticks with the barb-hooked ends, and ran out to the middle of the whitewashed ring in the center of the arena. Poised gracefully on his toes, waving the barbs, he attracted the attention of the Toro. The infuriated creature rushed to meet -only a new and more excrutiating kind of pain! A cleverly placed pair! The bullfighter ran straight toward his object, swerving just as the sharp horns seemed about to enter his body, and lunged forward on tiptoe, from the side, then ran back. The bull leaped, squirmed, bellowed, trying to bite at the two keen, flapping things which would not come out of his shoulders. Indeed a cleverly placed pair, and cries to that effect came from the now thoroughly excited crowd: Un buen par! '6Bravo! Ah, Martinez! Twice repeated, these banderillas, until the enraged beast was rushing madly, wildly, about the circle. Suddenly the trumpet sounded! Time for the matador! Ah, breathed Solita, unow, something? Jaime started, looked at her. He had been as interested in the fight as she, but now- he wondered. The fickle Solita! The fickle Solita? . Out walked Salvator, out, out, till he faced the wife of the Governor. HSenora! Bow- ing low, he tossed his hat to her. What a grand tradition, this handsome gesture! She smiled. Slowly he walked to the center of the ring, firmly in his right hand he gripped his great scarlet cape, quite different from the lighter, smaller cloak of the toreadorg he held his sword in the same hand, at an angle from the stick which held firm the top of the heavy cloth. Stamping his foot impatiently, he attracted the bull-who had been watching the torea- dors, once again forming in the semi-circle about the rim of the arena-to himself. Wildly, head down, tail stiflly out-thrust be- hind, the bull charged the cape, gracefully page thirty-nine