I spend four days getting into position for a shot at the only decent bull I've seen all season.

For once in their lives, husband and wife are both on the same side, shooting at the same bull.

They didn't stop to look at the dead bull.

He aimed at the bull on his side, assuming the captain would take the other.

They walked to the fence, and stopped to gaze at the bull.

He looked at the bull going down slowly over on his side, then suddenly four feet in the air.

"They kept shooting at the bull, and it wouldn't die," she said.

Gina had been staring at the bull in the pen.

He leapt off the low stone wall and waved at the bull.

You kept looking at the bull and back at the book or whatever it was.