Under the Head of a Jaguar
Jack was nearly unseated by the sudden dash of his pony, and managing to retain his position he was in imminent danger of being swept off by the branches of the trees.
The deep growl of the creature at his back rang in his ears, and he could feel the poor pony quiver in every muscle, as the fearful claws of the brute were buried deep into its flesh.
This occupied but a moment’s time from the attack of the wild beast to the end of the pony’s flight, but it was such a moment as Jack never forgot.
He had seen a precipice in the pathway of the terrified animal, but not in season to stop the maddened creature or turn it aside, though he did make a frantic effort to do so. As if bent upon its own destruction, the pony made a suicidal leap down the precipitous descent.
The frightened creature struck upon its feet, but immediately fell over on its right side, carrying its rider with it and pinning him under its body.
The savage beast had not lost its hold, and as Jack lay there within its deadly reach he saw for the first time that it was the most dreaded of the wild beasts of South America, the jaguar.
He had barely taken a swift glance at the furious brute before a warning growl above him broke the momentary silence and then a second form, the mate of that beside him, plunged down from the top of the cliff, landing beside the first, that uttered a fierce growl at the same time.
Jack’s heart fairly stopped its beating, and finding himself unable to move his right limb, he felt that it was all over with him.
The pony had apparently been killed by its fall, together with the attack of the jaguar, as it did not move after it fell over on its side.
The ferocious beasts, with a succession of sharp growls and snarls, began to feast upon the still warm carcass of the poor horse.
It was fortunate, and showed Jack’s remarkable presence of mind as well, that at that critical moment he remembered that old hunters had said if one feigned death he might escape the attack of a wild beast under ordinary circumstances, the story of Dr. Livingstone lying under the lion’s paw coming vividly into his mind. But his left leg lay on top of the pony’s body and close to where the two jaguars were exercising their teeth and claws on the flesh.
That morning before starting from Resaca he had put on a pair of boots with stout tops as a means of protection from the bushes and brambles he might encounter on his long ride. But he could not hope these would protect him long, if at all, from the attacks of the voracious brutes.
Words cannot describe his feelings as he lay there listening to the ominous growls and crunching of the hungry animals, expecting every moment to feel their sharp teeth in his own flesh.
Two or three times he felt one or the other of the jaguars push savagely against his foot, which was lifted and carried forward upon the pony’s neck in their eagerness to get at the warm meat.
All of that horrible scene Jack heard and felt rather than saw, for he did not dare to open his eyes--dare to draw a full breath.
After awhile he heard one of the pair move away a short distance, and he could hear it licking its dripping chops after its feast.
Its mate continued its voracious attacks upon the carcass, the grinding of its jaws and the crackling of the pony’s bones making horrible sounds for the helpless boy.
When this had continued for several minutes longer, the second jaguar stopped eating and began to lick Jack’s boots.
Nothing so far had equaled the horror of that sensation.
It seemed to Jack that he must go mad if it continued long!
After what seemed a long time to him in his intense agony, the dull, rasping sound ceased; the jaguar had ended its licking, but, as if loath to leave the spot, it allowed its head to fall forward on the half eaten body, with its nostrils lying on Jack’s foot. Its slow and regular breathing finally told that it had fallen asleep after eating its dinner.
Jack a little later heard the cat-like steps of its mate leaving the place, until the pitter-patter died away in the distance.
Then, for the first time, he dared to open his eyes, though he did not venture to move his head or hand a particle.
He could see the sleeping jaguar’s head and that was all that was in sight of the creature, that still remained motionless but likely to start up at his first movement.
As Jack’s gaze followed his narrow orbit of vision he soon saw his firearm, which had slipped from him in his ride over the precipice and fallen near where he lay in that terrible situation.
He had no sooner seen the weapon than a wild desire to get possession of it filled his mind. If he only had that in his hands he believed he could shoot the jaguar before it could do him harm.
The longer he pondered upon this the stronger became the desire to make the attempt. Failure could not be any worse than that awful suspense, which in all probability must end in death.
Then, as he realized that the jaguar’s mate might return at any moment, he resolved to make the bold venture without more delay.
He was first careful to make himself sure that the brute was still asleep, when he slowly and cautiously raised his hand enough to reach for the carbine, which fortunately lay stock toward him.
Not a sound broke the deathlike stillness of the lonely scene, save the labored breathing of the sleeping jaguar.
Never allowing his gaze to leave the creature, he continued to reach for the firearm until he felt his hand touch the stock.
As complete control as he had maintained over himself so far in the trying ordeal, at this critical moment he so far forgot himself as to draw a long breath--a breath of relief to think that he had something with which to defend himself.
That breath was instantly answered by a terrific growl!
It had awakened the light-sleeping beast, which quickly raised its head, and its whole appearance immediately changed, as it glared furiously around.
It seemed to realize at once that it had been fooled by this human creature within its clutch, and with another growl, louder, fiercer and more startling than any yet, it prepared to spring on its new victim.
But it was no quicker of action than Jack, who knew that his life hung on prompt work. At the same time he lifted the carbine from the ground, he cocked the weapon. At that moment the open jaws of the aroused jaguar were thrust into his face, and the hot breath of the wild creature fanned his cheek. The next instant he ran the muzzle of the firearm into the maddened brute’s throat and pulled the trigger.
A dull report followed, the jaguar’s head was blown into fragments, and Jack knew that his life was saved.