Arriving at the ranch, we found that the Yaqui Indian guide, who, by the way, was a famous peccary hunter, was absent, working on a distant part of the hacienda. Now a hacienda or ranch in Sonora is about as large as a county in most of our States, and it requires efficient messenger service to get over one inside of half a day. We sent for him, however, and as a small boy present volunteered the information that he thought he could guide the party to where a pig might be lurking in the brush, we concluded we would take a short spin with him while waiting for the Yaqui Indian. He based his expectation of a _jabali_ on the rain that had been falling, which sent the wild hogs out, made it easy to trail them, and brought them to bay sooner than if the weather had been dry. There was no horse for the youngster to ride, so he was taken on behind one of the party, and we started out in the pelting rain after "the poor little pigs," as one of the señoras of the hacienda put it. As the poor little pigs have been known to keep a man up a tree for three days, we felt more like wasting ammunition than sympathy on them. [Illustration: A MEXICAN JABALI.] The rain now came down in torrents, vivid sheets of lightning played in our faces, and the rumbling of the thunder was often so loud we could not hear the shoutings of one another. Now, indeed, we were anxious to get a peccary; for while a little rain helps the hunter in his chase after wild hogs, such a deluge is entirely against him. The dry gullies were running water that would swim a peccary, and this was in their favor in escaping from the dogs, for I should have said we had two dogs with us: one a noble-looking fellow for a hunt, and resembling a Cuban bloodhound, the other a most dejected-looking whelp, a cross between a mongrel and a cur. The whole affair was the sloppiest, wettest failure, and about noon we got back to the hacienda, looking like drowned rats. A good Mexican dinner of chili con carne, red peppers, tabasco, and a few other warm condiments was never better appreciated, and as the Yaqui Indian had put in an appearance we crawled back into our wet saddles, with our clothes sticking to us like postage stamps, and once more sallied out. While we were eating dinner the rain had ceased, and our otherwise dampened hopes had gone up in consequence; but when we were about a mile away it seemed as if the very floodgates of heaven had opened and let all the water down the back of our necks. Gullies we had crossed in coming out almost dry now ran noisy, muddy waters up to the horses' middle, and in some places halfway up their sides. Thus we kept along for an hour or so, wet to the skin, and even under the skin, cholla cactus burs sticking to us until we looked like sheep. About two o'clock we heard loud shouts, and away we tore through cactus spines and shrubby thorns, for it was a sign there were peccaries ahead. Indeed they were ahead, and we chased them for eight miles. The