He was looking up at the
Rocas and seemed at first not to hear the cries. He turned--slowly, with
horrible slowness, Cogan thought, when he recalled how fast he could
move when he wanted to.
"He turned too slowly. The bull caught him sideways, and when he came
down, it was astraddle of the bull's back, from which he fell to the
sand beside the bull, who had wheeled and was waiting. He must have been
stunned when he landed, for the sword and cape had fallen from him, and
he lay motionless. The bull lunged like lightning. The horn went into
the left thigh, just above the knee, and, not done then, the bull ripped
on upward with that same horn until it came out under the matador's left
breast.
"The white tights turned red. The bull was lowering his head to gore him
again, but Ferrero had leaped from his place of refuge. Cogan was with
him. Ferrero picked up the cape and flouted it in the bull's eyes. The
bull lifted his head from Torellas, looked at the cape, and charged. And
as he did, Cogan snatched up the matador's sword and waited. The bull
charged past Ferrero, then, wheeling quickly, made again for Torellas,
and his head was lowered to gore again. Ferrero got desperate and threw
the cape from him, and it caught on the horns, and while the bull was
entangled and enraged afresh, Cogan stepped close, picked out the little
spot the size of a fifty-cent piece at the head of the spine, stood on
his toes and came down with all his force.
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