years I have seen the snows on the Lagartigo, and the moonlight on
the--"

"Stop!" he cried--"you are going to begin padding. That will do for a
magazine, not for me!" and he snapped his fingers at me.

But I was not to be put off. He was weak--a cripple--and I gave him
the choice of listening to a personally-conducted tour in the South of
Spain, or relating his adventures.

"I will have my revenge!" he muttered. "You shall hear my life from
the beginning. You must know, then, that sixty years ago I was born,
and--"

"Yes," I returned, interrupting him--"of poor parents. Your father
was coarse, your mother pious. You learned all you could about bulls,
which you kept from your father, and you were ultimately engaged as a
bull-fighter--"

"Stop, stop!" he cried. "If you cut out about a dozen pages of my
biography, at least let me explain how I saved my father. You must
know--"

"I will do it for you in a line," I said, sharply. "Your father lost
his temper, and tried bullying the bull (no joke), and you winked
at the animal. He knew you, and stood still. The bull went for your
father--you for the bull. Drive on!"

"Let me tell you then, how I prepared myself for the Ring by
practising on a dummy bull.--I had no difficulty in sticking pins into