72 Unexplored Spain 
he had stopped, and, as may be imagined, I stood stolid too. 
As it proved, the bullet, entering top of shoulder, had traversed 
the vitals—hence the cessation of hostilities. A few moments 
later the arrival of the dogs terminated an untoward interval. 
On another occasion at the Veta de las Conchas, amidst the 
lovely pinales, just as the beat was concluded, there dashed 
from a small thicket a troop of a dozen pig, making direct for 
the solitary pine behind which the writer held guard. Passing 
full broadside, at thirty yards the biggest dropped dead on the 
sand, and, just as the troop disappeared in a donga, a second, it 
seemed, was knocked over. On the beaters approaching I 
walked across to see, and there, in the hollow, lay the second 
pig apparently dead enough. Having picked up my field-glasses, 
cartridge-pouch, etce., I stood close by awaiting the keeper’s 
arrival. Three or four dogs, however, following on the spoor, 
arrived first; and on their worrying the deceased, it at once 
sprang to its feet, gazed for one instant, and charged direct. 
Never have I seen an animal cover twenty yards more quickly ! 
Dropping the handful of chismes aforesaid, I pulled off an 
unaimed cartridge in my assailant’s face and a lucky bullet 
struck rather below the eyes. This is not a dead shot, but the 
shock at that short distance proved sufficient. 
An amusing incident, not dissimilar, occurred at Salavar. 
A youthful sportsman was approaching a boar which had fallen 
and lay apparently dead, when it, too, suddenly sprang up and 
charged. Our friend turned and fled; but, tripping over a 
fallen branch, fell headlong amidst the green rushes. There, 
face-downwards, he lay, preferring, as he explained later, “to 
receive his wound behind rather than have his face messed about 
by a boar!” Luckily the animal, on losing sight of its flying 
foe, pulled up and stood, grunting surprise and disapproval. 
A similar experience befell King Alfonso XIII. in this 
Mancha of Salavar, December 29, 1909. We need not tell 
English readers that His Majesty proved equal to this, as to 
every occasion, and dropped his adversary at arm’s length. 
When one reads (as we do) descriptions of big-game hunting, 
a recurring expression gives pause—that of “charging.” A 
recent discussion in a sporting paper turned on the question 
of “the best weapon for a charging boar.” Now such a thing 
as a ‘charging boar” has never, in a long experience, occurred 
