No one made reply, but Benito’s audience turned their glances outward from the fire, fearing that in the circle around they might see shining the eyes of one of these formidable animals.
Another interval of silence succeeded to the narrative of the vaquero. This was broken by the young man Tiburcio, who, used to the wild life of the plains and forests, was very little frightened by the presence of the jaguars.
“If you have a horse,” said he, “you need not much fear the jaguar; he is sure to take your horse first. Here, we have twenty horses and only one tiger.”
“The young man reasons well,” rejoined Baraja, reassured by the observation of Tiburcio.
“Twenty horses for one tiger—yes,” replied Benito; “but suppose the horses don’t choose to remain here. Supposing, what is likely enough to happen, we have an estampeda—the horses will be off. Now the jaguar knows very well he cannot overcome a horse unless he does so in the first bound or two. I will not follow the horses then, but will stay by the water, and of course by us as well. Besides, the jaguars that hunt by these springs are likely enough to have tasted human flesh before now; and if so, they will not, as the young man affirms, prefer the flesh of a horse.”
“Very consoling, that,” interrupted Cuchillo.
Benito appeared to be a man fond of the most frightful suggestions, for not contented with what he had already said, he continued—
“If there be but one jaguar, then he will be satisfied with one of us, but in case he should chance to be accompanied by his female, then—”
“Then what, by all the devils?” demanded Cuchillo.
“Why, then—but I don’t wish to frighten you.”