A BOAK-HUNT IN THE SIERRA. 29 



there a sign of life except that feathered rechise, the bhie 

 rock-thrush, (in Spanish " solitario,") and far overhead 

 floated great tawny vultures. Ten minutes of profound 

 silence, and then the distant shouts and cries of the 

 beaters in the depths beneath told us the fray had 

 begun. 



The heart of the jungle — all lentisk, or mimosa and 

 thorn, interlaced with briar — being imj^enetrable, the 

 efforts of our men were confined to directing the dogs, and 

 by incessant noise to drive the game upwards. First a tall 

 grey fox stole stealthily past, looked me full in the face 

 and went on without increasing his speed ; then a pair of 

 red-legs, unconscious of a foe, sped by like lOO-3'ard 

 " sprinters " — a marvellous speed of foot have these birds 

 on the roughest ground, and well are Spanish by-ways 

 named caminos de perdices ! Then the crash of hound- 

 music proclaimed that the nobler quarry was at home. 

 This boar proved to be one of those grizzly monsters of 

 which we were specially in search ; his lair a chaotic 

 jumble of boulders islanded amid deepest thicket. Here 

 he held his ground, declinmg to recognize in his noisy 

 aggressors a superior force ; and, though " Moro " and the 

 boar-hounds speedily reinforced the skirmishers of the 

 pack, the old tusker showed no sign of abandoning his 

 stronghold. For minutes, that seemed like hours, the con- 

 flict raged stationary ; the sonorous baying of the boar- 

 hounds, the " yapi^ing " of the smaller dogs, and shouts of 

 the mountaineers, blended with the howl of an incautious 

 jjodetico as he received his death-rip — all these formed a 

 chorus of sounds which carried sufficient excitement to 

 the sentinel guns above. Such and kindred moments are 

 worth months of ordinary life. 



The actual scene of war lay some half-mile below, 

 hence no immediate issue was probable or expected ; then 

 came a crashing of the brushwood on my front, and 

 a three-parts-grown boar dashed straight for the narrow 

 pass where the writer barred the way. The suddenness 

 of the encounter was disconcerting, and the first shot was 

 a miss, the bullet, all but grazing his back and splashing 



