"I love the girl, Quoniam."
"Hang it, and I love her too, the little darling! Well, if you like, after we have killed the jaguar, we will go to the Potrero—does that suit you?"
"It is a long way from here."
"Nonsense! three hours' ride at the most. By the bye, Tranquil, do you know that it is cold? And I am getting literally frozen; cursed animal! I wonder what it is doing at this moment; I daresay it is amusing itself with wandering about instead of coming straight here."
"To be killed, eh?" Tranquil said, with a smile. "Hang it all! Perhaps it suspects what we have in store for it."
"That is possible, for those confounded animals are so cunning. Hilloah! the colt is quivering—it has certainly scented something."
The Canadian turned his head.
"No, not yet," he said.
"We shall have a night of it," the Negro muttered, with an ill-tempered look.
"You will ever be the same, Quoniam—impatient and headstrong. Whatever I may tell you, you obstinately refuse to understand me; how many times have I repeated to you that the jaguar is one of the most cunning animals in existence? Although we are to windward, I feel convinced it has scented us. It is prowling cunningly around us, and afraid to come too near us; as you say, it is wandering about without any apparent object."