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272 DAYS IN THE SUN
a mad effort to scale it. The last of them was obliged
to leave his basket behind him; he tries again and again
to get over the fence with it, but in his excitement al-
ways falls back into the arena. The bull sniffs at his
basket and finally delicately applies his horn to the
man’s seat, helping him over the fence quite adroitly,
to the general satisfaction and applause. The Prefect
has played his cards well; the bullfighters are furious;
but the people are enthusiastic over the sudden admis-
sion of the bull.
The chulos assumed their places long ago. They
have thrown their gold-embroidered cloaks to the more
aristocratic seats, the occupants of which eagerly com-
bat for the honor of guarding them during the bull-
fight. Now they stand with their dark red cloths wait-
ing for the bull. But he does not see them; he is still
dazzled with the sunlight and the unfamiliar crowd,
and is rushing hither and thither like a mouse looking
for a hole, having been confused by the shouts and the
racket rising about him on all sides. A chulo trips
forth lightly and holds his provocative red cape under
the bull’s nose. The animal stands dazed for a mo-
ment at this audacity and then goes for him, plunging
his horns through the cloth. He stops and makes a
movement as if he were about to throw some very
heavy object many feet in the air. He shakes his
horns astonished—there is nothing on them. A new
chulo—a new attack by the bull, with the same result.
The bull, disappointed, gores his horns into the ground
and rips it up; he feels a desperate need of seizing
something tangible. Again he makes a furious on-
slaught on a chulo, only to be once more disappointed.
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