"Now that I have obeyed you for this game, you will let me enter the next contest then?"

"Go. I will follow you. Only, do not make yourself a fool."

"For you I would make a fool of myself, for I have a strong feeling for you," and he struck his bare, dusty chest with his fist.

A bloodless bullfight took place during the late afternoon. The bull charged the matador who skilfully sidestepped him and yet flaunted the muleta in front of him again and again. And at the climax of this encounter between man and animal, Esteban slipped away from Arturo's side. The bull was to be given his freedom to run out of the quadrangle and onto the open plain, and riders of skill and daring would try their luck in attempting to upset the bull by pulling his tail up over his head.

When the bull was turned loose, the riders were waiting for him and when the animal came charging out onto the open ground, they took off after him. Arturo looked up in time to see the back of Esteban as he galloped way ahead of the other riders in pursuit of the animal. A cloud of dust obliterated much of the action taking place.

Esteban thought he was going to lose out on this combat, for the bull was on his right and two vaqueros were already bearing down upon the creature. But the animal had a sudden change of heart and quickly galloped toward his left. He was now within range of Esteban and the Indian thought that this chance was almost made to order. He let out a wild shriek and rode alongside of the beast, leaning far out to the right of the saddle.

The tail was almost in his grasp, then the animal switched it away. It was here! No, it was there! This wouldn't keep up forever, for in the fraction of a second, the bull might turn again and run in another direction. He made a wild grab for the tail and this time he caught it. The bull snorted. Esteban pulled upward on the tail and the muscles stood out in his arms, chest, shoulders and neck. His feet and legs hugged the sides of the pony so he would not be pulled off.

Esteban strained and grunted. The animal was heavy. Madre de Dios! Then the hind legs of the bull were off the ground entirely. The animal snorted again and frothing at the mouth, he stopped running, bracing himself on his two forelegs. The muscles bulged further from the Indian's back and the perspiration ran down his skin, streaking the dust into miniature rivers. Esteban screamed out a challenging cry and his heart threatened to burst itself loose from this violent effort.

The bull pawed the earth and that was his misstep and what the Indian was waiting for. The youth grunted and exerting one last extremely trying pull, he yanked upward and forward. And the bull toppled over to the earth. Esteban grabbed the pony's neck quickly as he felt himself slipping. His head was reeling. But he managed to pull on the reins to quiet the horse down. The other IndianMexicans rode over to him, shouting and slapping him on the back, those that were not jealous of losing a chance at the animal.

And when Esteban and the vaqueros rode the little distance back to the fiesta, there was Padre Peyri ready to congratulate him personally and to usher him over to his prize-a finely carved leather saddle! Arturo looked on with happiness as the Indian was presented the saddle. Esteban could hardly believe that this was his, and he ran his dusty fingers gently over the leather trimmings—a saddle, one that had been envied and prized by many of the other contestants. Esteban quickly dropped to one knee and pressed the Padre's hand to his forehead. "Thank

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