“Lights!” he exclaimed. “Where? Oh, yes, I see. They are not lights, my unsophisticated youth, they are the eyes of an animal—a carnivorous animal, I judge, by the look of them—which has come down to the river to drink, and is doubtless wondering who and what the dickens we are.”
He glanced eagerly about him for a moment, then pointed to one of the weapons which Dick had already put together and loaded.
“Just hand me that Remington U.M.C. rifle, old chap—it is loaded, isn’t it? Good! This will be a capital chance to try it.”
The eyes were still plainly visible, apparently staring steadily at the lamp-lit entrance of the tent and the two figures seated therein. Without rising from his seat, Earle slowly lifted the rifle to his shoulder, and the next instant the whip-like report of it rang out, to be instantly succeeded by a tremendous outburst of every imaginable sound from the forest, amid which the cries of countless startled birds and the sudden rush of their wings predominated. But Dick had kept his gaze steadily riveted upon those two faintly shining orbs across there in the blackness, and when the flash of the rifle lit up that blackness for the fraction of a second he caught an instantaneous glimpse of a foreshortened tawny-hided black-spotted form, with a rounded head and short ears, standing at the very edge of the water, staring steadfastly toward the raft. Then, as the vision vanished, a snarling sound, half roar, half shriek, met his ears, followed by a few convulsive splashes—then stillness.
“By Jove! I believe you’ve hit him,” he exclaimed, excitedly starting to his feet. “It was a leopard; I saw him by the flash of the rifle.”
“No; not a leopard, my son,” answered Earle. “So far as I know, there are no leopards in America—except in menageries. But it may have been a panther or jaguar. Let’s get into the canoe and investigate. We’ll take the lantern with us, and the rifle, to guard against possible accidents.”
Part of the equipment of the expedition consisted of a very handsome little fifteen-foot cedar-built canoe, intended to be towed astern of the raft, and there it now floated, attached to the raft by a slender painter. Unhooking the hurricane lamp, Dick led the way aft, followed by Earle with the rifle in his hands, and presently they had both taken their seats in the cockleshell of a craft. She was fitted with rowlocks for use, with a short pair of sculls for the especial benefit of Dick, who knew nothing as yet of how to handle a paddle. They were half way to the shore when Earle, holding up the lantern on the end of a boathook, caught sight of the motionless body of his victim lying half in and half out of the water.
“There he is, and stone dead, if I’m any judge!” he exclaimed. And even as he spoke a great black head appeared close to the body, the sound of snapping jaws was heard, and with a sudden swirl of water both head and body disappeared in the black depths, to be seen no more.
“Con-found it!” exclaimed Earle, savagely. “Now, if that isn’t too bad! My first jaguar, too, and a fine one at that; and a beastly ’gator has stolen him from almost under my nose. Let up, Dick—or, rather, turn back. It’s no good. That darned ’gator has got my jaguar safe down there in the mud, and we shall never see him again. Well, never mind, I daresay we shall get plenty of other chances. But I’ll watch out and not be caught napping next time.”
What Earle said was true; the jaguar was gone beyond hope of recovery, and the only thing to be done was to turn back. Back they accordingly went, to resume their work of putting their battery in order; nor did they cease their labours until every weapon had been unpacked, put together, thoroughly cleaned, and loaded in readiness for any emergency. Then they retired to their respective couches, and after Peter had carefully closed the mosquito curtains round them and extinguished the hurricane lamp, proceeded to “woo the drowsy god.”