“Kinder guess he’s here to tell us to git aout uv taown in a hurry,” muttered the Vermonter. “Can’t hurry too much to suit me, b’gosh! I ain’t stuck on this air taown.”
Rodriguez was indeed a man of business. He did not beat around the bush, but he came at once to the point.
“Señor Merriwell,” he said, “I saw you kill the bull. It was most beautifully done. I was not aware that bull fighters were raised in America, but it was plain to me that you have had experience in the art. To-day I lost one of my espadas. Villasca’s place must be filled for the fights that are to come. I am sure you would be a great attraction. What you did to-day is known all over Madrid, and the papers will spread the report all over Spain. There will be great curiosity to see you. I will engage you to fill Villasca’s place.”
Frank was thoroughly astonished. In a moment he fell to laughing.
“It is impossible, señor,” he declared. “I have been warned to leave Madrid within forty-eight hours.”
“That is nothing. I can attend to that, and I will arrange it so you need not go. It will pay you to remain.”
“But I am not a professional bull fighter.”
Rodriguez looked as if inclined to be doubtful.
“You are skillful. You pierced the bull’s heart with a single stroke. Never have I seen it done more handsomely.”
“It was an accident.”