“Well, perhaps I am mistaken upon that point; but one thing I know well—for I have proved it a hundred times—that is, that a brace of tigers, when the male and female are together, seldom roar in that fashion—especially if they suspect the presence of a human being. It is more likely, therefore, that at this moment they are separated; and by going towards the hacienda, you might risk getting between the two.”
“Heaven preserve me from getting into such a scrap,” muttered the negro.
“Well, then; the best thing you can do is to stay where you are—beside a man who don’t care a claco for the jaguars.”
The negro hesitated, not quite certain that it would be the best thing for him. At that moment, however, a second howl, coming in a direction entirely opposite to the first, decided his uncertainty, and convinced him that the tigrero had spoken the truth.
“You see,” said Costal, “the brutes are in search of something to eat. That’s why they are calling to one another. Well, now! if you’re still in the mind, off with you to the hacienda!”
This was of course meant as a taunt; for the negro, who now perceived that there was a jaguar howling in the way that led to the hacienda, had given up all notion of proceeding in that direction. On the contrary, while his black face turned of an ashen-grey colour, he drew closer to his imperturbable companion—who had not even attempted to take hold of the carbine which lay on the grass by his side!
“Bah!” muttered Costal, speaking to himself, “this comrade of mine is scarce brave enough for my purpose. I must defer it, till I meet with one possessed of more courage.” Then resuming the current of his thoughts, which had been interrupted by the howling of the jaguars, he said aloud—“Where is the red man, where the black, who would not lift his arm to aid this brave priest?—he who has risen against the oppressor—the oppressor of all Zapoteques, Creoles, and Aztecs. Have these Spaniards not been more ferocious than even the tigers themselves?”
“I should not fear them, at any rate,” interposed Clara.
“Good! I am glad you talk that way, comrade. To-morrow let us give warning to our master, Don Mariano de Silva. He must find another tigrero; and we shall go and join the insurgents in the west.”
The Indian had scarce finished his speech, when another howl came from the jaguars, as if to put the patience of the tiger-hunter to the test. It was even more spitefully prolonged, coming in the direction in which the first had been heard—that is, from a point upon the river a little above where the two men were seated.