050 
to dismount from our horses and load the shot 
guns they wisely took warning of the danger, 
and with a whir of wings rose like one bird and 
sailed down into the valley. 
We were now well up into the Cierras de los 
Organus, where the country presented an entirely 
new aspect. Great moss-covered plateaus, stud¬ 
ded with groups of white pines rolled away to 
meet volcanic mountain peaks, or plunged 
abruptly into valleys banked deep with royal palms, 
ceiba and mahogany trees. On the right, mark¬ 
ing a bloody battlefield in the Cuban war of In¬ 
dependence, the jagged blue outline of Caccara- 
jicarra broke against the sky, while northward, 
far in the distance and ranged like congealed 
waves along the horizon billowed a succession of 
pinnacles, crags, buttresses and carved minarets 
beautiful indeed to behold. 
Over the shimmering green of the valleys; over 
the blue solitude of the mountains and across the 
yellow plains with their park-like groves of pine 
trees, the morning sun shot its long golden 
shafts. Away toward the west a chalk cliff 
caught the light and reflected a shield of dazzling 
white. Now and again an errant gust of wind 
brought with it from beyond the blue volcanic 
ranges, the tang of ocean spaces; the salty breath 
of the sea, mingling with the spiced aroma of the 
pine trees and fugitive perfumes of the jungle. 
Overhead two buzzards wheeled languidly in a 
sky of lapis-lazuli. 
From a cool ravine cut between two plateaus, 
we presently rode out on to a broad grassy plain. 
Across it the trail twisted and wound until reach¬ 
ing the far side it plunged into a shallow gorge, 
or canyon, at the bottom of which flowed a co¬ 
pious stream. Here in the shade we rested and 
watered the horses. Then after a drink all around 
of black coffee from the Senor’s immense Ther¬ 
mos bottle, we re-mounted and continued our 
way toward the hunting grounds which we were 
rapidly nearing. 
Without any premonition, as we rode along, 
the trail brought us suddenly out into a little 
jungle glade. Lianas mottled and of a clear 
green, twisted snake-like through the tangle of 
tropic foliage overhead; parasitic plants and orch¬ 
ids of rare color drooped from the tree trunks 
and woven branches, while the glade itself was 
carpeted knee deep with delicate ferns and fairy 
grasses. From above an occasional ray of sun¬ 
light pierced the leafy roof and entered as a 
moted beam into a darkened room to brighten the 
riotous growth of vine and fern and flower. An 
exotic fragrance filled the air and an ancient hot¬ 
house damp pervaded the shadows. 
In the middle of this little glade sat a lank 
Cuban mountaineer on a rat-like pony. Indeed the 
pony was so small that the grasses in the glade 
brushed the line of his body, while his rider’s feet 
nearly touched the ground on either side. Both 
horse and man seemed to be enjoying a sort of 
siesta and, motionless as statues, quietly waited 
our approach. 
To have found another specimen of humanity 
quite like this raw-boned mountaineer, you would 
have had to have looked a long way. One of 
Remington’s scouts come to life could not have 
cut a more romantic ,or adventuresome appear¬ 
ance. From under a rojugh palmetto-leaf hat, his 
melancholy eyes met otirs with sombre directness, 
while the drooping mustache and lean, rugged 
lines of his face, enhanced at once his outward 
air of imperturbable reticency. He was poorly 
FOREST AND STREAM 
clad, but heavily armed. Across his saddle lay a 
brightly polished carbine; a large revolver glis¬ 
tened at his side, in company with a large machete. 
The upper half of his body fairly bristled with 
cartridge belts. 
The Senor rode forward and shook hands with 
the stranger. Then the two engaged in an ear¬ 
nest conversation, the outcome of which was ap¬ 
parently satisfactory, for the Senor smiled a wide 
beaming smile and immediately turned to Lieut. 
M.—Then the Lieutenant smiled broadly and 
turned to me. 
“The guide tell our friend there are plenty of 
deer,” he translated, “We must surely get one.” 
With hope refreshed and under the new leader¬ 
ship of the lanky mountaineer, we once more hit 
the trail. But less than half a mile farther on 
the locality selected for the deer hunt was reach¬ 
ed, and on a spacious pine-dotted plateau we dis¬ 
mounted and took up our respective stations. 
Our host, accompanied by his son, the guide and 
two of the Rural Guards, now set off to put out 
the hounds. Lieut. M.— and myself in the mean¬ 
while settled ourselves in a grove of white pines 
that crowned a little hillock overlooking a palm 
valley, and commanding an uninterrupted view of 
the plateau. 
It was nearly noon and after our long ride we 
were glad to rest and investigate the lunch bags. 
The horses were tethered on the shady slope of 
the hillock and given a feed of oats. Thus in 
this pleasant spot, steeped in sunshine and 
shadow, and warm piny odors, and musical with 
the droning of tropical insects, we ate our lunch 
and listened expectantly for the first baying note 
of the hounds. 
Presently it came. Lieut. M. was just in the 
act of striking a match to his cigarette, when that 
old, familiar and blood-stirring sound of dogs 
giving tongue on the trail of game smote sud¬ 
denly on our ears. 
My companion dropped his match as though it 
had scorched his fingers. Simultaneously we both 
threw a cartridge from the magazine into the 
barrel of our rifles. Then we waited. 
Deep-throated and almost continuous, the bay¬ 
ing of the hounds came steadily in our direction. 
Sometimes the sound would grow a little fainter; 
again it would swell loud and near as if the pur¬ 
sued animal had gained a higher stretch of 
ground. N ow and again a clamor of excited 
squeals and thrill yelpings would tell that the 
quarry had been sighted. One dog, evidently much 
slower than the others, could be heard farther 
away, complaining in a series of mournful howls 
and defeated barkings. 
We gripped our rifles and sat close. Nearer 
and nearer came the tumult, and I half imagined 
I could hear the crash of running bodies through 
the undergrowth. Then in a moment when it 
seemed that deer and hounds must literally be on 
top of us, the noise of the pursuers veered sud¬ 
denly, and swept by us out of sight, down into 
the valley. A second later from below the crash 
of a rifle reached our ears followed by a yell and 
the loud fan-fare of a hunting horn. After this 
ensued a dead silence. 
Lieut. M.—and I looked at each other, and the 
Lieutenant shook his head dubiously. 
“We have missed a good shot,” he said in his 
broken English, “that deer, I think is very un¬ 
kind.” 
The clamor in the valley which had ceased for;, 
a few minutes, now commenced again with renew¬ 
ed loudness and vigor. Excited talking punctuated 
by the yelp of some poor canine who had just re¬ 
ceived a Spanish boot in the ribs, floated to us 
distinctly on the wind. And not more than ten 
minutes later, we heard horses coming in our 
direction from the valley. As we waited, the 
Senor followed by his son, the lank mountaineer 
and a bevy of crestfallen hounds broke the fringe 
of the forest and rode toward us. 
Perspiration was streaming from the Senor’s 
face. I have never seen a man look more silently 
enraged or discomforted. His black eyes were 
snapping and his long arms gesticulated violently 
as he endeavored to explain the situation. 
“Peegs!” he cried, shaking himself out of the 
saddle, “those damn dogs chase the peeg!” 
Lieut. M.—endeavored to soothe his indignation 
but the Senor’s wrath only seemed to flame high¬ 
er, and not until he had exploded several bomb¬ 
shells in Spanish of profane character did we 
learn what had actually taken place. 
It seemed that the dogs had started two deer 
almost immediately after having been set out on 
a very fresh trail. They had coursed them for 
half a mile or so and were heading well down to¬ 
ward our point of concealment, when as bad luck 
would have it, they jumped a herd of twelve or 
fifteen wild pigs! At once there resulted a gen¬ 
eral stampede, and the hounds became so dement¬ 
ed that they dropped the deer trail and took up 
with zest the fresher scent of the piggies. For all 
he could do the Senor was unable to check the 
wild chase after the skuttling grunting herd, until 
a single member infuriated at the state of affairs 
swung around and faced the dogs. But before 
the Senor could arrive on the scene the pig had 
slipped out of sight in the brush. He had caught 
up with the dogs, however, and belabored them 
soundly with his riding whip. The shot we had 
heard had b'een fired by his son who was some 
distance farther down in the valley, and had 
stirred out a deer, doubtlessly one of the animals 
the dogs had started an hour before. He had 
obtained a running shot, but owing to the dense 
cover, had missed. 
Suddenly the ludicrous part of the performance 
struck me and I commenced to laugh. The Senor 
and his son and Lieut. M.— however, wore 
solemn and disappointed looks. All the way back 
to San Diego they rode along in glum silence. 
Continuously they kept lamenting the fact that it 
was too late in the day to start a fresh hunt. 
We reached San Diego just as the sun was 
slipping down into a sea of gold over the palm 
forests. True, we had returned with an empty 
game bag and disappointed hopes, but for all that 
we had fared only as many other hunters fare, 
and personally I shall always recall that long ride 
through the beautiful mountains of Pinar del Rio 
with keenest pleasure. 
That night at the supper table the Senor was 
profuse in his apologies over the failure of the 
deer hunt. 
“Next time we go to a better place,” he said; 
than added “a place where there is all the deer 
and no peeg.” 
But, as fortune would have it, this hunt of 
greater promise was never to be effected, for two 
days later we said good-bye to the hospitable 
Senor, and left behind the sleepy little town of 
San Diego, and the gray-blue mountains of La 
Cierras de los Organus to return to the sea airs 
and bustle of Havana. 
