IN SEARCH OF THE LAMMERGEYER. 299 



a forest region, where the track followed the course of a 

 clear mountain stream, embedded among oleander, laures- 

 tinus, and myrtle, their foliage forming an evergreen 

 tunnel, along which we rode in grateful shade. For 

 some distance our route and the burn ran parallel, 

 their courses sometimes coincident ; then we diverged to 

 the left, ascending the slope of a garc/anta, amidst noble 

 oaks, chestnuts, and ilex, all, save the oaks, in full leaf, 

 and from the gnarled trunks hung hare's-foot ferns and 

 masses of ivy and parasitic plants in green festoons. Of 

 bird-life, but little beyond a few common small birds was 

 observable, and on a sunny slope we came suddenly on a 

 big grey mongoose, which, however, got to ground before 

 the gun could be unslung. 



The first range explored was the series of crags ter- 

 minating the Sierra de las Cabras ; but it proved blank as 

 regarded our chief object. The summit is a long, narrow, 

 knife-edged ridge, along which vertical strata of lime- 

 stone, bleached white as marble, protrude abruptly as the 

 walls of a ruined city. Amidst these ruinous streets were 

 a few Black Chats, and on a shoulder of the hill a solitary 

 Blue Bock- Thrush ; a small eagle was sweeping over the 

 slopes, but not a sign of the Lammergeyer could we see. 

 The day was bright and clear, and the view extensive 

 and wild. On the north the granite mass of San Chris- 

 tobal, now lightly necked with snow, limited our horizon ; 

 but in other directions rose an infinity of grey, stony 

 sierras, range beyond range, some sharp, jagged, and 

 cruelly bare of vegetation. To the south we could discern 

 the silvery sheen of the Lagunas de Janda, with glimpses 

 of the Straits of Gibraltar, and the misty outline of 

 African highlands beyond. 



We had a long, hard day ere we reached the cortijo of a 

 hospitable hill-farmer among the cork-woods of the valley 

 beyond. Here we sought a night's lodging, and the kindly 

 mountaineer, "Francisco de Naranjo, su servidor de 

 usted," as with a low bow and typical Andalucian courtesy 

 he introduced himself, at once made us feel that the 

 Spanish welcome — " aqui tiene usted su casa" — was, in 



