“Not a bad idea,” rejoins Gaspar, “and one quite practicable,” he adds, with his eye taking in the dimensions of the cavern’s mouth, but little larger than an ordinary stable door. “You’re right, Señor Cypriano; we can do that.”
Without further speech, they set about the work; first rolling the larger masses of stalactite towards the entrance to form the foundation of the wall. But before having got half-a-dozen of them fixed in their places, a sound reaches their ears which causes them suddenly to desist; for all three recognise it as coming from the throat of a jaguar! Not a loud roar, or scream, such as they heard when that lying dead first made its presence known, but a sort of sniff or snort, as when it was struggling, half-choked by the ponchos. Soon, however, as they stand listening, the snorting changes into a long low growl, ending in a gruff bark; as of a watch-dog awakened by some slight noise, for which he is not sure of its being worth his while to forsake his kennel, or spring upon his feet.
Not thus doubtful are they. Instead, the sounds now heard excite and terrify them as much as any that preceded; for they can tell that tiger Number 2 is, as themselves, within the cave!
“Por Dios!” exclaims Gaspar, in a low tone of voice, “it’s the old Tom sure, and inside too! Ha! that accounts for our not being certain about the she. Both were yelling at the same time, answering one another. Where can the brute be?”
They turn their eyes toward the back of the cavern, but in the dim glimmer can see nothing like a tiger. They only hear noises of different kinds, made by their horses, then freshly affrighted, once more sniffing the air and moving uneasily about.
“Your guns!” cries Gaspar in hurried accents; “get them loaded again! If the tigre attack us, as it’s almost sure to do, our knives will be of little use. Viva, muschachos!”
All together again lay hold of their guns; but where is the ammunition? Stowed in a pair of holsters on the pommel of Cypriano’s saddle, as they well know—powder, balls, percussion-caps, everything. And where is the horse himself; for, left loose, he has moved off to another part of the cavern?
Cypriano taking the candle in hand, they go in search of him. Soon to see that the frightened animal has taken refuge in an angular embayment between two projecting buttresses of rock, where he stands cowering and trembling.
They are about to approach him, going cautiously and with timid steps, when, lo! on a ledge between, they perceive a long yellow body with black spots lying astretch at one end of it, a pair of eyes giving back the light of their candle, with a light almost as brilliant, and at intervals flashing like fire. It is the jaguar.
The sight brings them suddenly to a stand, even causing them to retreat a step or two. For the ledge on which the tigre crouches is directly between them and Cypriano’s horse, and to approach the latter they must pass right under the former; since it is upon a sort of shelf, several feet above the level of the ground. They at once see there is no hope of reaching the needed ammunition without tempting the attack of the tiger; which, by their movements, is becoming at every moment more infuriated, and already seems about to spring upon them. Instinctively, almost mechanically, they move further away, having abandoned the idea of defending themselves with the guns, and fallen back on their only other weapons, the knives. Ludwig counsels retreating altogether out of the cave, and leaving their horses behind. Outside, the wind no longer rages, and the dust seems to have blown past. They but hear the pattering of rain, with peals of thunder, and the swish of the stream, now swollen. But nothing of these need they fear. To the course counselled Cypriano objects, as also Caspar; fearing for their horses, almost sure to be sacrificed to the fury of the enraged jaguar. And where would they be then? Afoot in the midst of the Chaco, helpless as shipwrecked sailors on a raft in mid-ocean!