The following occurrence, which refers to, perhaps, the only robbery of magnitude carried out by Agua-Dulce, was cited by Sanchez in proof of the above report. A sum representing nearly six hundred pounds, all, curiously enough, in the smallest gold coin, had been taken from Don Juan Malvido of Jerez. A few days later, Agua-Dulce was discovered in a wine-shop of the Calle Cruz Vieja, dividing with two other men a large quantity of these same small gold coins. He was arrested and imprisoned. The judge at that time was one Alvarez, who was, however, absent from his post on account of illness; the interim authority being Don Juan Cerron, a man of upright and intrepid principle, who believed that now sufficient evidence was forthcoming to bring home to the villain his crime, and secure at length the condign punishment he had so often deserved. When the prisoner was asked to explain how he became possessed of so much small gold, he replied it was the proceeds of a certain business he had just effected in Seville. For the purpose of ascertaining the truth of this, the judge commissioned an inquiry (puso un exhorto) to be made at Seville. The reply was a demand for the prisoner's presence in that city—doubtless to learn from Agua-Dulce's lips how the exhorto could be answered favourably to his cause!

For some years after this Agua-Dulce continued his course of petty robbery and outrage without especial incident, but with increasing audacity and immunity. Of a lady named Varela he had demanded three thousand dollars under threat of destroying the valuable stock of mares upon her farm of Vicos. Of Don Antonio Diaz, of Paterna, he had requisitioned a thousand dollars under similar terms: and a large number of donkeys belonging to Don José Calero, also of Paterna, who had refused his extortions, were found with their throats cut. Lastly, from a farm-steward at Romanina he had taken a small sum of money, his gun, and cartridge-belt. The authorities in this last (minor) case had clear evidence against Agua-Dulce and were keenly on his track.

The crimes of the miscreant (all these having occurred within a few days) were thus assuming alarming proportions, and two amongst the Municipal Guard of Jerez swore they would put an end to him. On the 23rd of May these two, Antonio Sanchez and José Salado, were returning towards Jerez after several days of fruitless search, when, passing the ford of the Alamillo (a preserve belonging to the Duke of San Lorenzo), a woman informed them that Agua-Dulce had been at work only an hour or two before, and had taken all he possessed from a poor carbonero. This decided them to remain in the neighbourhood, and shortly afterwards, while riding through the coverts of El Espinar, they observed two men, armed with guns, running between the trees.

NOTES ON ITS NATURAL HISTORY, HAUNTS, HABITS, AND DISTRIBUTION.

The following are the maximum dimensions of the heads of male ibex, measured by the authors—all from the central and south-Spanish sierras.

Through the kindness of the late Sir Victor Brooke, we are also enabled to give the following measurements of his three best Pyrenean ibex heads.

Sir Victor Brooke wrote:—"A. This was a very grand old ibex: but the points were broken and his horns rubbed smooth with age. The Pyrenean ibex are much larger beasts than those from the southern sierras."

The ibex of these higher sierras never descend to the level where pines, high brushwood, or indeed any covert can grow. Their home is on the snow and rock, and they only descend as far as that zone of moss, heath, and stunted alpine vegetation which intervenes between the snow-line and the highest levels of conifer or tree-growth. Their food consists of the bloom and shoots of various alpine shrubs, grasses and flowers—the Spanish gorse, broom, rosemary, and piorno, as well as certain narcissi, mountain-berries, and the peasants' scant crops of rye-grass. For this latter luxury they are tempted to come down rather lower: but under no circumstances, not even in winter, are the ibex of Gredos or Nevada found in the forests or amongst covert of any kind.

In form and build, the ibex represents the very perfection of combined power and action—if physical adaptation counts in the struggle for the "survival of the fittest," the wild goat need hardly fear extinction. His thickset frame, broad front, and prominent eyes, with well-poised neck, clean quarters, and the light muscular legs set well within his short round barrel, all bespeak qualities which admirably adapt him to the hard, strange life assigned by nature to the wild-goat.

The young ibex are born in April, and soon learn to follow their dams—graceful little creatures, like brown lambs, easily captured if the mother is shot, but not otherwise. One is the usual number, but two is not infrequent. It is a curious fact that the kid remains with its dam upwards of a year—that is, till after a second family has been born. Consequently it is usual, in spring, to see the females in trios—the mother, her yearling daughter, called the chivata, and the new-born kid, or chivo. Though, as just stated, there are often two young, yet we have never seen more than one chivata with each female ibex—possibly it is only the female kids that remain so long with their dams. In May the chivatas are conspicuously smaller than the adult females, but their horns are nearly as large.

At this season (April-May) the ibex are changing their coats; the males have almost entirely lost their flowing beards, and in colour assume a hoary, piebald appearance, especially on cheeks and forequarters, contrasting with the darker portions above and behind. The muzzle is warm cream-colour, and the lower part of the leg (below the knee) prettily marked with black and white; on the knee, a callosity, or round patch of bare hard skin. The horns of yearling males are larger and heavier than those of adult females.

The smell of a dead ibex is specially strong and unpleasant—an old male stinks far worse than a vulture; yet little or no trace of this remains after cooking. Their flesh is firm and brown, fairly good eating, but without any special flavour or individuality—that is, when subjected to the rude cookery of the camp.

I.—Sierra de Gredos (Old Castile).

Twenty-six hours on the railway—at first with the comparative luxury of a Pullman-car: the last seven crawling across the Castilian plain, towards the frowning ridges that look down on Talavera, whereon our Iron Duke repulsed nearly twice his numbers of French, and turned the tide of war: then thirty odd miles in a diligence, and finally a five-league mountain-scramble on mules—this it costs us to reach the home of the Castilian ibex.

Night was closing in and sleet descending in driving sheets, when at length, round a projecting spur, we sighted our destination. The hamlet hung on the steep slope of the sierra, whose snow-clad heights and jagged peaks, towering away into cloud-land, gave us a fair forecast of the labours in store. As for the village—a more picturesque, rumble-tumble maze of quaint, shapeless hovels, all pitched down apparently at random, with their odd chimneys, odd balconies and projecting gables, all wood-built, it would be hard for fancy to depict, or for artist to discover. And the natives—the light-framed, lithe mountaineers, clad in the short majo jackets, tight knee-breeches and cloth gaiters, with smart sky-blue waist-coats, brass-buttoned, and crimson fajas: the women enveloped in brilliant mantas of grass-green or scarlet, and with short petticoats that displayed rounded limbs, bare to the knee—verily we seemed to have fallen upon some surviving vestige of Goth or Moor, all unknown to the world, hidden away in these recesses of the sierra.

Such things, however, had but a platonic interest for men weary, drenched and travel-worn: and a terrible shock remained in store, when, upon a low paneless barn, we deciphered, in hieroglyphic symbols, the word posada. At the moment of our observing the ill-boding sign, a pig was in the act of entering the portals.

Nothing, however, remained but to make the best of it. The cold was intense, and in the deluge of rain and sleet outside, it was impossible to erect our tent, even had a level site existed. We had with us, however, on this campaign, a genius, and with magic skill Vicente transformed the uncouth den: order replaced chaos: our bedsteads were erected, basins, towels, soap, even chairs and a table appeared as by legerdemain: while a savoury olla with two brace of quarter-pound trout from the burn below, and a stoup of good red wine, stood before us.

This operation had lasted four hours, during which the cold had been intense, a bitter blast blowing with hurricane-force through the rock-passes where we held guard, as through a funnel. At intervals the wind came laden with fine snow or jagged crystalline icicles which ricochetted from the rocks like things of life. At one period—the climax of the storm—if a hundred ibex or wolves had filed past the writer's post, his fingers were too benumbed by exposure to have handled the rifle. The ascent had also occupied four hours—the apparent altitude (by aneroid) being nearly 8,000 feet—and the return to the spot fixed for our camp would require two more. Hence no time remained for further operations that day, and we returned, sad and empty-handed, to camp.

Two blank days followed, and on the third a hurricane of wind, rain, and driving mist forbade all hope of sport. The first beat next morning was again blank, no ibex being seen; but a second, though covering a much smaller area, enclosed a band of eleven. These, when first viewed, were coming in directly towards the guns, and held this course till lost to sight in an intervening ravine. Shortly afterwards the upper flank of the beaters crested the further ridge, and at once, we saw, they opened out their line, extending upwards towards the snow. These men had already seen that the goats, true to their natural instincts, were seeking to gain the higher ground: and a marvellous sight ensued—to watch, through the binoculars, these hardy mountaineers fairly racing with the fleet-footed ibex, and striving, by sheer speed and strength of limb and lung, to head their flight, and cut off their retreat to the snow-sanctuaries above.

Turned from their first point, the ibex, now separate and scattered, when next they appeared, were heading, some for the snow-fields direct, others for the lower passes: in one of which a five-year-old male offered a chance, at eighty yards, to the ambushed "Paradox"—a chance that was not declined, though only attained at the end of a severe scramble of 200 yards across the rocks. The hollow-fronted ball struck on the ribs, and traversing the vitals, "mushroomed" itself against the shoulder-blade. Presently, from the heights above, rang out three or four reports in quick succession—the upward-bound contingent of ibex were running the gauntlet of our driving-line. A male and two females offered long or random shots to the mountaineers. One of the latter was reported hit—though the pair were followed by a chivo, or kid, only ten days old!—but no tangible result was secured by this fusillade.

So passed the days with varying incident, which it boots not to recount in detail; sometimes we saw game, more often the reverse. One element alone remained permanent and changeless—the daily labour was extreme. Strength and physical powers were taxed—aye, strained, almost to the breaking point, and in these contests of lung and limb the wild-goat necessarily held the advantage.

Ravens and choughs tenanted the crags, and the red-legs were met with very high up. Both in this sierra, in Nevada, and other alpine ranges, we have kept a strict look-out for ptarmigan, but not a sign of them have we met with. They are unknown to the cazadores of the sierras, and it appears certain that none exist in Spain, save in the Pyrenees.

It is, however, fair to add that we have never tried ibex-stalking in summer, when the obstruction of the snow would naturally be much less; the goats, on the other hand, have then a vastly extended field to roam over.

II.—Riscos de Valderejo.

Far away to the eastward, a triple-peaked mountain filled the whole horizon. From the distance it appeared to be composed solely of barren grey granite, and only sparse patches and striæ of snow adorned its crests. This was the Riscos de Valderejo, and on its heights there roamed, we were told, a good band of ibex, including some machos of the first rank.

Well, the narrow col or neck, connecting the Riscos with the neighbouring heights, being thus contaminated—for the wild goat will never cross a path or suffer the propinquity of man—the ibex of that sierra form an isolated colony, absolutely cut off from all contact with their fellows. That such should be able to survive on so limited a space—their territory is but eight miles by four—amidst a nation of tiradores, is partly due to a curious local circumstance. A pair of guardias civiles, the military police of Spain, is stationed close below the col. Here is the explanation. None of the serranos pay the gun-license,—twenty shillings,—and capture, red-handed, means disarmament. Hence the presence of this pair of civil guards signifies nothing less than security to the isolated ibex of the Riscos; their withdrawal would be the signal for extermination within a few years.

At length the time arrived to bid farewell to these rock-ramparts of Old Castile, and their primitive simple folk, kindly and honest as the day; Dionysio actually returned to our camp before daylight next morning—a two-league walk—to return a pair of boots left by one of us at his cottage! Each man already seemed an old friend. "Hasta la otra," said Juan Guarro y Guarro as he offered his hand, "y si no, que lo pasen ustedes bien!"—"Till the next time, and, if for ever, fare ye well!" The conclusions we came to were that both our visits were rather too early (May), and that the most favourable season for ibex-shooting is in July and August: but even then, whether by stalking or driving, the work is hard in the extreme.

III.—Sierra Bermeja (Mediterranean).

In the last chapter are described some experiences with ibex in the distant cordilleras of Castile: but we have the wild cabra montés much nearer—indeed within sight of our Andalucian home. The Sierra Nevada is one of their chief abodes, and herds of goats roam the still nearer heights of Ubrique, Bermeja, and the Palmitera. As the circumstances of the ibex here vary from those already described, we now add some details of campaigns on these Mediterranean ranges.

The next spectacle was less welcome. On the height of the ridge, high above us, we descried against the sky-line the crouching figure of a man, stealthily advancing as though in touch of game. This ill-omened apparition, as the sequel proved, was the key-note of this campaign: the semana santa of Easter-tide had commenced, we were forestalled by native cazadoras, and a carefully-planned and well-organized exhibition resulted in comparative failure. Nor had the danger of this been entirely unforeseen, but adverse circumstances had delayed our movements.

The field of our operations was all scrub—strong thorny bushes clothing the steep and rock-strewn slopes, amidst which we subsequently found many "lairs" of the ibex—regular seats, like those of a hare or fox. Hidden in these strongholds, the ibex, our men asserted, would deliberately allow the beaters to pass them by: but we have strong grounds for the opinion that this only applied to the females—all ages or sexes, be it repeated, are alike to a cazador—and never to the males, which, always wild and crafty, rely for safety on far bolder tactics and modes of escape.

From our posts, at the head of a dizzy tumble of rocks and screes, no fewer than five distinct mountain-ranges were in sight, one-rising beyond the other, the last and loftiest clad in snow. To and fro in mid-air, far beneath, sailed a superb pair of lammergeyers, their expanded pinions gleaming almost white in the sunlight. These giant birds had their eyry in a series of granite canchos near the apex of the gorge; but, at intervals, also entered a cave in another crag which, we subsequently ascertained, had formed their home in a previous year.

Amongst the birds observed here, which may be mentioned as typical of the Mediterranean sierras, were golden, booted, and Bonelli's eagles, a single griffon-vulture, peregrine and goshawk, a pair of sparrow-hawks, busy carrying sticks, ravens, jays, great spotted woodpecker, wrens, crag-martins (Cotile rupestris), the usual chats, and a few cushats. Hawfinches and great tits were abundant among the pines, and in the early dawn the melodious song of the blue-thrush reminded one of Scandinavian springs and the redwing's note. Another small bird causes recurrent annoyance to the ibex-shooter. With a loud "rat-tat-tat," closely resembling the patter of horny hoofs on rock, its song commences; then follows a curious hissing note, not unlike the passing of a heavy body through brushwood—for a moment one hopes that the coveted and long-awaited game at length is coming. No! confound that bird; it's only a redstart!

No ibex, however, appeared here to us expectant. The natives, tiradores of Enalguacil, of Cöin and other hamlets of the sierra, sleeping on the open hill, and possessing twice our speed of foot on their native rocks, were always on our front; and in order to get clear of competition, we moved our camp across the ridge to the north. This operation involved sending forward at daybreak a dozen men with hatchets to clear a way for the laden mules, some fifty or sixty well-grown pines, with hundreds of lesser growth, perishing before a passage was practicable. We encamped on a forest-opening at a spot called the Majáda del Alcornoque, altitude 3,400 feet, the same evening—first having to remove several hundred stones from the camping-ground, for almost each afforded shelter to a scorpion or gigantic centipede.

Here, during the next few days, we had the (to us) singular experience of ibex-driving in thick pine-forest and deep wooded ravines, with generally a strong undergrowth of bushes and scrub—the beau idéal of a roe-deer country, but the last place in the world in which we should have expected wild-goat. The goats were there, nevertheless, for females and young males were seen on different occasions by guns or beaters. In one tremendous clam-shaped gorge, an ibex and a wild pig were both on foot at once! The only ibex the present writer had the luck to see in this part of the sierra—which seemed to be composed almost entirely of ironstone and other mineral ores—was by a purely fortuitous encounter. On the sudden lifting of a dense cloud-bank which rested on the mountain-side, I descried, right above me, four ibex—including two fair-sized rams—all standing on a projecting rock, in bold relief against the sky, and not above 400 yards away. The intervening ground was rugged—rocks and brushwood with scattered pines—and, except for the first fifty yards, the stalk seemed to offer no great difficulty. Already I had passed the dangerous bit, and had crawled near 200 yards, when, alas! in a moment the wet mist settled down again, and I saw no more of the game.

To our other misfortunes was now superadded the discomfort of bad weather. Here is an extract from diary:—March 31st.—Glass fell last night four-tenths to 25' 85", and the morning broke with a whole gale from W., bitterly cold, with driving masses of cloud, gradually changing to rain and sleet—a bad prospect.

Here is another reflex of local character—a cutting from a Malaga paper of April 1st, 1891, among the ordinary items of local news:—

"Bandido.—The Civil Guard of Malaga encountered on Wednesday, near Cöin, the celebrated bandit Mena, who has long held the whole of that district in terror. The individuals of the Civil Guard demanded his surrender, to which summons he replied with the discharge of his weapon. This brought on a ferocious struggle, resulting in the death of the freebooter, who received two bullet-wounds from his aggressors."