“I am—of cats like that,” replied his companion. “I’ve heard my father say that some of them are friendly. That must be a friendly one, but I’m sure they are not fit to be trusted. Let’s make haste.”
Rob did not feel so disposed, and he looked back from time to time as they forced their way through the grass and low growth, but there was no puma visible, and finally, taking it for granted that the animal was gone, but making up his mind to try and find it again if they stayed, he stepped out more quickly to catch up to Joe, who was pressing on toward where he could now see both of their companions and a hundred yards beyond the boatmen coming to meet them.
“Hi! What have you shot, Mr Brazier?” cried Rob as he drew nearer.
“Deer! Very fine one!” came back the reply.
“Venison for dinner, then, and not ‘only fish,’” said Rob as he changed shoulders with his gun. “Shouldn’t care to be always tied down to fresh-water fish, Joe. They’re not like turbot and soles.”
“I say, don’t talk about eating,” said the young Italian testily.
“Why not?”
“Makes me so hungry.”
“Well, so much the better. Proves that you enjoy your meals. I say, I wish that great cat had followed us.”
“Nonsense! What could you have done with it?”