Since the bull each time had received a terrific thrust on his left shoulder from the spear, he finally refused to charge another one of the picadores.  Their places, therefore, had to be taken by the banderilleros.  These gay-looking people are men on foot with arrows two feet long, each with a hooked point.  On the other end these arrows are decorated with little flags, brass foil, tinsel, and even bird cages whence gaily decked birds are permitted to escape.  With these arrows the banderilleros walk right up to the bull, and, when he is ready to charge, jump to one side and thrust their weapons deep into his neck, halfway between his ears and his horns.  Then the beast grows altogether mad and furious, and often chases a whole band of chulos in wild flight over the barrier, which calls for noisy shouts of ridicule from the crowd.  Once the bull straddled the fence, and there have been times when he has succeeded in scaling it.  One of the chulos was so bold as to put his gaudy cloak over his shoulders, so that the bull charged straight at him.  But as the beast lowered his head and threw himself forward with closed eyes, the man jumped over him and stood by his side.

When finally the rage of the bull is at its height, but his strength is waning, the matador faces him, all alone.  At once a hush falls over the spectators, who sit in rapt attention, for the matador’s work is by far the most dangerous.

He is a fine-looking man, in shoes and white stockings.  His silk coat and breeches are sky blue; his hair is tied in a net, in his left hand he carries a small scarlet cloak, and in his right a diamond-shaped blade of sharp Toledo steel, four feet in length.  It is necessary to drive this into the neck of the bull at a very definite point, for if it hits him elsewhere he can shake it off and break it into splinters.  In order to hit the right spot the man must let the bull pass him at a distance of only two or at best three inches.  Everything is based on the assumption that the bull will attack the red cloth rather than the man, and will continue his course in an absolutely straight line.  There are exceptions, and then the matador is lost.

Very deliberately the caballero walked up to his black antagonist and shook his red cloth at him.  Twice he let him pass under his arm.  At the third attempt he thrust his blade up to the hilt into the neck of the beast.  For another minute perhaps the bull rages, then he begins to bleed from his mouth, he totters and then collapses.  Immediately a kind of hangman’s assistant sneaks up from behind and plunges a dagger into the neck of the bull, who expires on the spot.

At this juncture five mules decorated with ribbons and tinkling bells came trotting into the arena; they were hitched up to the horses and then to the bull, and at a fast clip carried the corpses away.  Some sand was then sprinkled on the puddles of blood, and a new bull brought out.  In this way eight bulls were driven to death.  Twenty horses fell dead, while several more were led away mortally wounded.  A single bull killed eight horses.  No men were seriously hurt.