As the auto containing the naturalist and the boys progressed, the road became more and more difficult to travel. Part of the way was overgrown with brush, and several times the travelers had to stop, get out and cut big vines that grew across the path.
“I guess there hasn’t been much going on along this highway,” observed Jerry.
“And I don’t believe it will ever be much in favor with autoists,” said Ned. “There’s too much sand.”
There was a great deal of the fine dirt and in some places it was so soft and yielding that the wheels of the car sank down half way to the hubs, making it impossible to proceed except at a snail’s pace. Then, again, would come firm stretches, where the going was easier.
In this manner several miles were traversed. The forest on either side of the road became more dense and wilder. Thousands of parrots and other birds flew about among the trees, and troops of monkeys followed the progress of the automobile, chattering as if in rage at the invasion of their stamping ground.
Suddenly the screams and chattering of the monkeys ceased. The birds also stopped their racket, and the silence was weird after the riot of noise. Then there came such a series of shrill shrieks from a band of monkeys that it was evident something out of the ordinary had happened.
The next instant a long, lithe, yellow animal shot across the road in front of the auto. [The big beast had a monkey in its mouth.]
“A jaguar!” exclaimed the professor. “Quick, boys! Get the rifle!”
Ned handed the weapon to the professor, who fired three times, quickly, but the jaguar leaped on, unharmed.
“Well, we’re getting into the region of big game,” remarked the naturalist, “and we’ll have to be on the lookout now or some of the beasts will be trying that trick on us.”