The sun was gradually inclining towards the horizon, when a prolonged howl, shrill at first, but ending in a hoarse roar, fell upon the ears of the two adventurers. It appeared to come from a brake some distance down the river; but, near or distant, it at once changed the expression upon the countenance of the negro. Fear took the place of astonishment; and, on hearing the sound, he sprang suddenly to his feet.
“Jesus Maria!” exclaimed he, “it is the jaguar again!”
“Well, what if it be?” said Costal, who had neither risen, nor made the slightest gesture.
“The jaguar!” repeated the negro in his terror.
“The jaguar? You are mistaken,” said Costal.
“God grant that I may be,” rejoined the black, beginning to hope that the sounds had deceived him.
“You are mistaken as to the number,” coolly proceeded Costal. “There is not one jaguar, but four—if you include the cachorros!”
Perceiving the sense in which Costal meant he was mistaken, the negro, with terror gleaming in his eyes, appeared as if about to start off towards the hacienda.
“Take care what you do!” said the Indian, apparently inclined to amuse himself with the fears of his companion. “It is quite true, I believe, that these animals are very fond of black men’s flesh.”
“Carrambo! just now you told me the contrary?”