found himself tasting warm lips.

"Man-lover, man-lover!" One of the girls shreaked, pointing, and the others joined in with shrill laughter.

Manuel pushed himself away violently, his hand closing itself into a fist which he knew he would never use. He turned to rush away from Lorenzo, but the brother grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Manuel felt caught, yet he lunged forward with all his remaining strength and there was a loud ripping sound as his ruffled shirt tore all the way down his back. Lorenzo was left with a piece of white cloth dangling from his hand. Manuel ran out the Mission hospice, his back bare to the blowing wind.

The 'moment of truth' had come at last, for Lorenzo and for the bull. Juanito's valet made ready the sword. Manuel held his shirt against his body and watched the action in the quadrangle reach a shattering conclusion.

Juanito was performing one last pass, a derechazo por arriba with the muleta held high up in his right hand for the bull to go under. However, a gust of wind blew strongly against the muleta and half of the red cape flopped down in front. of the torero's body. The bull rushed forward.

The crowd roared. Manuel screamed. The body of Juanito was flung into the air like a limp rag doll before it descended to the earth. A figure streaked through the crowd, causing the people to scatter out of the way and it jumped over the wall of the quadrangle and into the arena beside the red, blowing cape. Manuel was fascinated by the horror, the suddeness of it all and he pushed his way forward to see.

The wind was blowing fiercely now as if God were angry at this desecration of His Holy grounds. People bent over by the wind, screamed and trampled one another in efforts to find shelter. Others stayed to watch the spectacle in the ring, telling themselves it was only a desert wind storm.

Lorenzo seized the muleta and made several passes designed to lure the bull away from the figure on the ground who slowly sat up. The bull charged again and again, but Lorenzo deftly side-stepped him, keeping himself always in front of his brother, allowing him to receive help and to leave the quadrangle.

"The sword, the sword!" Manuel yelled to the valet as he ran to join the people carrying Juanito from the ring.

The valet yelled to Lorenzo who came near, but always kept his eyes upon the frothing, enranged bull. A sword was tossed to Lorenzo who almost missed it for the blowing of the wind. Then with the sword held firmly in his hand, Lorenzo came together with the bull.

"Come on, Manuel, we are leaving."

Manuel turned and saw Juanito pulling on his arm. "You are all right, you are not hurt?" He stared at the bedraggled figure beside him.

"Just shaken, a few cuts and bruises, I was lucky."

"You were fortunate that Lorenzo got to you in time. He saved your life." "Come, the wind is blowing up a gale." He tugged at Manuel's arm.

"Wait, I want to see him kill the bull. There!" Manuel saw Lorenzo thrust the sword deeply into the tormented animal to give it final rest. The blood spurted out as the bull crumpled to the earth, first on its forelegs and then down all the way to the ground and over on its side. The sides heaved up and down with the last grunts of life and the muscles in the legs jerked with spasms.

Lorenzo stood before the dead animal, his head bowed, his sword dripping red. "Eh, toro, you have put up a brave fight... and I, too. . .

17