Instantly all was action, swift action. Cloaks were tossed to attendants, each footman received a red cape, the two _picadores_ took position one on either side of the bull pen gate, the band struck up a tune, the gate was opened and a great Utreran bull bounded into the arena, maddened with the pain of a short _banderilla_, with long streaming ribbons, stuck in his neck as he entered, by an attendant perched above the gate. His equal had never been seen in a Mexican bull ring. While typical of his Utreran brothers, all princes of bovine fighting stock, this coal-black monster was by the spectators voted their King. Relatively light of quarters and shallow of flank and barrel, he was unusually high and humped of withers, broad and deep of chest and heavy of shoulders--indeed a well-nigh perfect four-legged type of a finely trained two-legged athlete, with a pair of peculiarly straight-upstanding horns that were long and almost as sharp as rapiers. Evidently by his build, he was of a strong strain of East Indian Brahminic blood. For his great weight, his activity was phenomenal--his leaps like a panther's, his turns as quick. Dazed for an instant by the crash of the music and the brilliant banks of color about him, he stood angrily lashing his tail and pawing up the sand in clouds--"digging a grave," as Texas cowboys used to call it--his eyes blazing and head tossing, but only for a moment. Then he charged the nearest _picador_, literally leaped so high at him that head and cruel horns crossed above the horse's neck, his own great chest striking the horse just behind the shoulder with such force that man and mount hit the ground stunned and helpless. Barely were they down when he was upon them and with a single twitch of his mighty neck, had ripped open the horse's barrel and half amputated one of the rider's legs. Then, diverted by the _capadores_, he whirled upon the second _picador_ and in another ten seconds had left his horse dead and the rider badly trampled. Next the _banderilleros_ tackled him, but such was his speed and ferocity that all three funked the work, and not one of them fastened his flag in the black shoulders. When the bull had entered the ring, _El Tigre_ left the arena--a most unusual proceeding. Now he returned, clad in snow-white from head to foot, a white cap covering head and hair, his face heavily powdered. He slipped in behind and unseen by the bull to the centre of the arena, and there stood erect, with arms folded, motionless as a graven image. Presently the bull turned, saw _El Tigre_, and charged him straight. _El Tigre_ was not even facing him, for the bull was approaching from his left. But there he stood without the twitch of a muscle or the flicker of an eye lid, still as a figure of stone.