The gay horsemen then rode out, and were followed by the mules, but the horsemen soon returned upon an entirely different style of animals--poor, broken-down, lean, lame, and mangy hacks, which looked as if they had been turned out of some street-car stable as bait for vultures. They were covered with a sort of leathern armor, and this concealed their fleshless ribs; but nothing could disguise the shambling and uncertain gait with which they painfully ambled across the arena under the savage spurring of their riders. They managed to get across, and that was all. The first set of horses were intended for show, and the second for slaughter. Public opinion appears to demand that something besides a bull be sacrificed, and the matadors not being amiable enough to afford this gratification, a pair of animated clothes-racks are turned in to be gored. The poor beasts are blindfolded, which is about the only humane feature of the show. The Governor’s herald gave another blast, at which the entire audience, who were on the _qui vive_, arose and shouted. A door across the pit opened, and a large, clumsy, long-horned bull poked his head out into the arena. The crowd yelled, and matadors posed at different parts of the ring--ten of them--and the two horsemen pretended to get ready for the fray. The bull looked up, the only frightened being in the entire multitude. The posters described him as “a valiant and arrogant animal.” He was a fine piece of beef, but he didn’t want to fight. Somebody behind spurred him, and he ran into the ring. The doors were closed behind him, and there was no way of escape. He plunged one way, but was met by three matadors, who flapped their cloaks in his eyes; he turned in the other direction, but was met by three more; then he made a bolt between them, and darting towards the other side of the ring, gave a great leap, as if he would go over the eight-foot wall. Of course he failed, but he struck the planks with tremendous force, tumbling forty or fifty fellows who were perched on the top into a heap on the other side. It was the only amusing feature of the whole show. There was a grand crash, a loud howl, forty or fifty pairs of legs were in the air, and the audience shouted with laughter. The bull turned around frightened at the noise, ran to the other side of the ring, and sought in vain for a place to get out. Then one of the horsemen rode up in front of the animal and jammed a spear into his face. The bull plunged at his assailant, bellowing with pain, lifted the poor horse upon his horns, raised him from the ground, and threw him with great force against the side of the arena.