A little flock of brightly-coloured finches flew up before we had gone a hundred yards, but I was so excited by the prospect of getting my prize’s mate that these seemed of no account, and we went on, my intention being to fire at the cock of the rocks, and nothing else, unless the golden plumage of a quetzal flashed into sight.
In another five minutes we had forgotten all about the puma, for we were leaving the trees where it had disappeared away to our left, and we went on and on, starting birds again and again, till we had passed over a quarter of a mile and were pushing on amongst open clumps of bushes with patches of woodland here and there.
Pete was abreast of me with the other gun, and I was sweeping the ground before me in search of the orange plumage of the bird I sought, which might spring up at any time, when I had to pass round a pile of rugged stones half covered with herbage.
“Sort of place for snakes to bask,” I said to myself, as I gave it a little wider berth, when all at once, to my surprise, up rose with a whirr not the bird I sought, but a little flock of seven or eight, and as I raised my gun to fire at the group of whizzing orange—Thud!
Something heavy had bounded from the pile of stone I had passed, to alight full upon my shoulders.
Bang, bang! went both barrels of my gun, and the next moment I was down, spread-eagle fashion, on my face, conscious of the fact that what was probably the puma’s mate had bounded right upon me as I stooped forward to fire, and as I heard Pete utter a yell of horror, the beast’s muzzle was pressed down on the back of my neck, and its hot breath stirred the roots of my hair.