I have referred to a curious spectacle several times presented in Madrid, chiefly in _fiestas_ for charitable purposes, where an elephant was introduced into the Bull-Ring to fight, in place of the usual _cuadrilla_ of men. This was an old elephant named Pizarro, a great favourite of many years' standing with the Madrileños. He was an enormous animal, but one of his tusks had been broken off about a third from the tip, so that he had only one to use in warfare or as protection. He was tethered in the centre of the arena, by one of his hind legs, to a stump about twelve inches high. Then the bulls were let out one at a time. Meanwhile, Pizarro was amusing himself by eating oranges which were showered on him by his admirers on the benches. With the greatest coolness he continued his repast, picking up orange after orange with his trunk, all that he was careful to do being to keep his face to the bull, turning slowly as his enemy galloped round the ring trying to take him in flank. At last the bull prepared to charge; Pizarro packed away his trunk between his tusks, and quietly waited the onslaught. The bull rushed at him furiously; but the huge animal, quite good-naturedly and a little with the air of pitying contempt, simply turned aside the attack with his one complete horn, and as soon as the bull withdrew, a little nonplussed, went on picking up and eating his oranges as before. Bull after bull gave up the contest as impossible, and contentedly went out between the _cabestros_ sent in to fetch them. At last one more persistent or courageous than the others came bounding in. Pizarro realised at once that for the moment he must pause in eating his dessert; but he became aware at the same time that in turning round to face the successive bulls, he had gradually wound himself up close to the stump, and had no room to back so as to receive the attack. The most interesting incident in the whole affray was to watch the elephant find out, by swinging his tethered leg, first in one direction and then in another, how to free himself. This he did, first by swinging his leg round and round over the stump, then by walking slowly round and round, always facing the bull, and drawing his cord farther and farther until he was perfectly free: then he was careful only to turn as on a pivot, keeping the rope at a stretch. Finally the bull charged at him with great fury; stepping slightly aside, Pizarro caught him up sideways on his tusks, and held him up in the air, perfectly impotent and mad with rage. When he considered the puny creature had been sufficiently shown his inferiority, he gently put him down, and the astonished and humbled bull declined further contest. The fighting bulls of Spain are wonderfully small in comparison with English animals, it should be said. [Illustration: DRAGGING OUT THE DEAD BULL]