"A few of these men, as Cogan looked on, stood out from the others; and after a time from among those few stood one by himself. From the first Cogan had noticed that he was very fast and clever--and strong, yes. It was his quickness and skill, even more than his strength, which counted. He used the bull's strength against the bull himself. He wasn't much more than medium height or weight, but beautifully developed--they were all finely developed men--and behind his muscular power was all kinds of nervous energy. And a great way of doing things, not an extra motion of any kind--no wasteful flourishes or posings. Not that he didn't have style. Style!--he had so much of it that he didn't seem to be half trying. Everything and everybody seemed to be playing into his hands--even the bull. And he was such a human kind, laughing and joking as he bounded and ran about! And he must have said many funny things, they all laughed so; and he took a lot of trouble to coach some of them in their practice. "Cogan later saw him in the dressing-room. He came off the field before the others, and while they were yet practising he had had his bath. He was now dressing and Cogan saw that he wore fine linen and fashionably-cut clothes. He had a room to himself off the main dressing-room, and two attendants jumped to serve him. From time to time, standing at the door of his dressing-room putting on a collar or adjusting his tie, he would sweep a glance at Cogan. His eyes were friendly. They were also of good size and deep-set, Cogan now had a chance to see; but they had also an absent, wistful expression which made Cogan wonder, for at this young fellow's age, and he the star of the troupe, it's little in life should have been bothering him. "By and by the others came in, and with their coming Cogan's favorite was again lively and laughing. Soon he was ready for the street. And all dressed up he was a great swell. As he passed out those in his way skipped to one side, while those in the corners ran forward to catch his eye and smile at him. 'Torellas, Torellas,' Cogan heard again and again in the most admiring and affectionate tones. "After he had gone out the door, Cogan asked one of the bull-fighters who he was. But his 'Spanish Without A Master' didn't seem to be working very well, and the man he questioned called out 'Ferrero--Oh, Ferrero!' saying to Cogan 'Ferrero spik the Ingliss--O fine-a--good-a Ingliss.' "A man that Cogan recognized as one of the liveliest performers in the ring, though somewhat older than the others, came over and bowed politely. "'Señor, if you will tell me--who is Torellas?' asked Cogan in English. "'Torellas'--Ferrero pointed toward the door--'he departed only one moment ago.' "'Señor, I saw, and thank you. But who is he?'