Crossing the Foot-hills 207 
remaining would not permit of my crossing several rugged spurs 
and deep ravines which lay between me and the point where | 
reckoned the cliff must be. 
It was not until May tgo1 that I found myself once again 
within a day’s ride of the part of the sierra wherein lay the cliff 
I had seen in 1884. April had been a month of extraordinary 
rains and floods but for the last two weeks we had enjoyed splendid 
weather and the tracks and mountain passes were in excellent 
travelling condition. 
It was on one of those glorious spring days, which to my 
prejudiced mind are nowhere so glorious as under an Andalucian 
sky, that we rode forth on our expedition in quest of the cliff 
accompanied by a couple of Spaniards, both old friends and 
companions in many similar undertakings. 
In the middle of May, the time of our visit, the whole country 
was carpeted with flowers, pink mallow and brilliant blue con- 
volvulus predominating. Birds of course abounded, the most 
conspicuous being Calandra Larks, a fine species, almost double 
the size of our own Skylark. Its song is more powerful in some 
parts than that of our bird and it sings, like ours, when on the 
wing, but not at such heights or with the same persistence. Corn 
Buntings sat stupidly on thistles or sprays of defunct asphodel 
giving vent to their tedious call with aggravating monotony and 
allowing our horses to pass within a yard or two without showing 
alarm or surprise. 
Soon we reached the arable land abutting on the level plain 
which at this season is covered with crops of barley and bearded 
wheat now nearly full grown, although still green. Our route 
usually ran along the edge of some tortuous watercourse, at times 
striking across the undulating hills along a headland between the 
crops until it once again joined a watercourse. The numerous 
tracts of fallow land were covered with mustard, whose golden 
flowers were in places more than 6 ft. above the ground. 
