76 Unexplored Spain 
Sabinal, then back on the left by Maé-Corra, forward through 
the Carrizal, thence crossing the Corral Grande, 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. Within that 
sullen fortress of the Rincon lies our wounded boar. How to get 
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 podenco, 
not unlike a deerhound, but on smaller scale, is let go. Upa 
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 began 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 cartridge could be shoved into the breech the great 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 through his heart. 
Though the method described is regularly employed by Spanish 
hunters to seize and capture a wounded or “ bayed” boar—and 
we have seen it executed dozens of times—yet seldom in such a 
spot 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 
