In the Sierra Nevdda 315 
into a cavern above. Five minutes later he reappeared and, after 
several aerial evolutions, suddenly checked and, with indrawn 
pinions, swept downwards to earth. Ere we could surmount an 
intervening ridge, the great dragon-like Gypaétus swept into 
view, his golden breast gleaming in the early sunlight, and bearing 
in his talons a long bone with which he sailed across the valley 
towards Trevenque; we watched to see the result, but, so far as 
prism-glasses could reach, that bone was never dropped. Probably 
he had some special spot habitually used for bone - breaking. 
Later a griffon-vulture (a species rarely seen in Nev4da) passed 
overhead, and then a second lammergeyer sailed up the gorge 
of Monachil. 
SOARING VULTURE 
‘Tis a long up-grade grind to the Pefones, but repaid by 
magnificent views of the Picacho de la Veleta—its scarped out- 
line gloriously offset against the deepest azure and its 1000-foot 
sheer drop vanishing to unseen depths in the mysterious “ corral” 
beneath—an inspiring scene. 
Beyond to the eastward towered the mountain-mass, Mulahacen 
—perpetuating the name of that Moslem chief whose remains, 
so tradition records, yet le in some unknown glacial niche in 
this the loftiest spot of all the Spains. There they were laid 
to rest by the fond hands of Zoraya, at the dying request of 
her husband the penultimate Moorish king, Muley-Hacen. 
Our upward course led through beds of dwarf-juniper, thick 
strong stems all flattened down horizontally by the weight of 
Winters’ snows, precisely as one sees them on the high fields of 
