“This way, Master Nat,” whispered Pete.
“No, no; this way,” I said hoarsely. And I hurried forward, having to get over about a hundred yards before I could reach the patch behind which the birds had disappeared.
My heart beat faster with excitement as well as exertion as I checked my pace on reaching the trees and began to creep softly along in their shelter, till all at once there was a harsh scream, followed by a dozen more, as a little flock of lovely green parroquets took flight, and Pete stopped short for me to fire.
But I did not; I only kept on, wondering whether the objects of my search would take fright.
They did the next moment, and I fired at what seemed like a couple of whirring patches of orange, one of which to my great joy fell, while the other went right away in a straight line, showing that it had not been touched.
“That’s got him!” cried Pete excitedly. And he ran forward to pick up the bird, while I began to reload, but stopped in astonishment, for from some bushes away to the left, in a series of bounds, a magnificent puma sprang into sight, and seemed to be racing Pete so as to get first to the fallen bird.
Pete was nearest, and would have been there first, but he suddenly caught sight of the great active cat and stopped short.
This had the effect of making the puma stop short too, and stand lashing its tail and staring at Pete as if undecided what to do.
I ought to have behaved differently, but I was as much taken by surprise as Pete, and I, too, stood staring instead of reloading my gun, while it never once occurred to the lad that he had one already charged in his hand.
Suddenly, to my astonishment, he snatched off his straw hat.