Cogan had noticed that he was very fast and clever--and strong, yes. It
was his quickness and skill, even more than his strength, which counted.
He used the bull's strength against the bull himself. He wasn't much
more than medium height or weight, but beautifully developed--they were
all finely developed men--and behind his muscular power was all kinds of
nervous energy. And a great way of doing things, not an extra motion of
any kind--no wasteful flourishes or posings. Not that he didn't have
style. Style!--he had so much of it that he didn't seem to be half
trying. Everything and everybody seemed to be playing into his
hands--even the bull. And he was such a human kind, laughing and joking
as he bounded and ran about! And he must have said many funny things,
they all laughed so; and he took a lot of trouble to coach some of them
in their practice.

"Cogan later saw him in the dressing-room. He came off the field before
the others, and while they were yet practising he had had his bath. He
was now dressing and Cogan saw that he wore fine linen and
fashionably-cut clothes. He had a room to himself off the main
dressing-room, and two attendants jumped to serve him. From time to
time, standing at the door of his dressing-room putting on a collar or
adjusting his tie, he would sweep a glance at Cogan. His eyes were
friendly. They were also of good size and deep-set, Cogan now had a
chance to see; but they had also an absent, wistful expression which
made Cogan wonder, for at this young fellow's age, and he the star of
the troupe, it's little in life should have been bothering him.

"By and by the others came in, and with their coming Cogan's favorite
was again lively and laughing. Soon he was ready for the street. And all
dressed up he was a great swell. As he passed out those in his way
skipped to one side, while those in the corners ran forward to catch his