“You are far too modest, señor. Such accidents do not happen. You stood your ground like a veteran, and it was plain you felt your ability to kill the bull. If you had not killed him with that stroke, he must have killed you.”
“It was my luck. In a tight place, my luck never fails me. That is all.”
“Ah, you Americans! I have been led to believe you were all boasters. It is not true. Señor, I beg you to consider. You are to name your price.”
“And I assure you that never before in all my life have I killed a bull.”
“Then how dared you enter the ring and place yourself before the bull to-day? Can you answer me that?”
“I did not pause to consider the danger, Señor Rodriguez. I saw a girl in deadly peril, and I hastened to her rescue. I could not help doing so. The impulse came upon me too strongly to be resisted. It was the most natural thing in the world to do.”
The manager of the circus seemed unable to believe that any one who knew nothing of bull fighting would dare do what Frank Merriwell had done that day, even though it were in defense of a girl who was in deadly peril. He was much too polite, however, to openly say as much.
“It is plain that you must swiftly become a skillful bull fighter,” he declared. “I will give you an opportunity. You are to name your price.”
Frank saw that a flat refusal was the only thing that would turn the man away.
“Señor Rodriguez,” he said, “you have not money enough in Madrid to purchase my services, even though I was certain I would be successful at it. I am an American, and Americans do not fancy bull fighting. I attended the fight to-day out of curiosity—nothing more. I do not care to see another bull fight. To your people it is a pleasant pastime; to an American it is something quite different. I trust you will pardon me for speaking so plainly, but I felt that I must make you understand. I thank you for the honor you have done me, but I assure you it is quite impossible to induce me to accept such an offer.”