76 Unexplored Spain 



Sal)inal, then back on tlie left by Mae-Corra, forward through 

 tlie Carrizal, thence crossing the Corral (Trande, and away into 

 the great pinales beyond — away to the Rincon de los Carrizos, 

 three solid leagues and a bit to spare ! That was the price of a 

 bungled shot. 



Here at last we have tracked him to his lair. Witliin that 

 sullen fortress of the Rincon lies our wounded boar. How to set 

 him out is a different problem. Though wounded, he is in no 

 way disabled, and is ready, aye " spoiling," to put up a savage 

 fight for his life. Having precisely located him in a dense tangle 

 of lentisk and briar, our single dog, Careto, a tall, shaggy ^^oc/cjico, 

 not unlike a deerhound, but on smaller scale, is let go. Up a 

 gloomy game-path he vanishes, and in a moment fierce music 

 startles the silent woods. The boar refused to move. But one 

 resource remained. We must go in to help Careto, crawling up a 

 briar-laced tunnel. It was horribly dark at first, and I beoan to 

 think of . . . when, fortunately, the light improved, and a few 

 yards farther in a savage scene was enacting in quite a consider- 

 able open. Beneath its brambled roof we could stand half 

 upright. In its farthest corner stood our boar at bay, a picture of 

 sullen ferocity. Upon Juanillo's appearance the scene changed as 

 by magic — there was a rush and resounding crash. Precisely 

 what happened during the three succeeding seconds deponent 

 could not see, it being so gloomy, and Juanillo on my front. 

 Ere a cartrido;e could be shoved into the breech the o;reat boar 

 was held up, Careto hanging on to his right ear, and Juanillo, 

 springing over the dog, had seized the grisly beast by both hind- 

 legs — at the hocks — and stepping backward, with one mighty 

 heave flung the boar sidelong on the earth. Next moment I had 

 driven the knife throuo-h his heart. 



o 



Though the method described is regularly employed hj Spanish 

 hunters to seize and capture a w^ounded or "bayed" boar — and 

 we have seen it executed dozens of times — yet seldom in such a 

 sj)ot as this, cramped in space, handicapped by bad light and 

 intercepting boughs and briars. It was a dramatic scene, and a 

 bold act that bespoke cool head and brawny biceps. 



The head of this boar hangs on our walls to commemorate an 

 event we are not likely to forget. 



We remember following a wounded lynx into a similar spot 

 — a deep hollowed jungle. A pandemonium of savage snarling 



