I should have said that one of the dogs was a large handsome spaniel—“Caesar”—of which my uncle had kindly made me a present some days before. The animal seemed to understand the change of masters, and having taken a great fancy to me, obeyed my orders as readily as if I had trained him from his puppyhood. Three other animals, if not perfectly well-bred, were closely allied to the Cuban blood-hound, too frequently employed in hunting runaway slaves, although equally useful for driving game out of thick coverts or protecting the camp when committed to their charge. They were possessed of great keenness of scent, were fierce, courageous, and very powerful animals, and could endure the intense heat of a tropical sun. They could follow the wily ocelot, making their way noiselessly through the dense palmetto-scrub, and could fearlessly tackle panthers or bears.
We passed, on our course, alternate narrow strips of grass and jungle, with cabbage-palms and numerous live-oaks scattered about in picturesque groups. Sometimes we came to ponds fringed with saw-grass eight or ten feet in height, from amid which rose large flocks of the beautiful roseate spoonbill ibis, while the white ibis and ducks of varied colours stalked and swam around the edges, and snipes rose frequently almost from under our feet. From among a flock of turkeys, which flew up from a thick palmetto jungle, we knocked over four fat gobblers, sufficient for two substantial meals to our whole party.
I must not stop to describe the adventures of each day. For the first three or four, we met with less large game than we had expected, Carlos always telling us that farther south we should find much more.
We were not altogether unmindful of the reported bad temper of the Indians, and had we not taken precautions against surprise, we might possibly have been attacked; but at night two of the party were always on watch, accompanied by a blood-hound, to give notice of the approach of a foe. We put up rough tents, which afforded us sufficient protection against the weather, though not against the mosquitoes, which frequently troubled us severely. It was only towards morning that we felt any sensation of cold. We were then glad to draw our blankets tightly around us, though a small amount of exercise soon warmed our blood. Our plan was to breakfast before daylight, so as to get some of the cool hours of the morning for hunting.
We had not been long on foot—the fourth day after leaving Castle Kearney—when we saw the hounds running backwards and forwards from one large clump of scrub-palmetto to another.
“They are after a cat,” exclaimed Carlos; “but it will be some time before they catch it.”
“A cat?” I asked.
“We call it ‘cat’ for shortness’ sake. Its common name is a ‘catamount,’ or, more properly, an ‘ocelot.’”
The hounds, who well knew where the ocelot had gone to, were chasing it from tree to tree; but still it continued to elude them. All we could do was to stand by with our rifles ready to shoot the creature, should it burst forth into the open. Nearly two hours must have passed since the dogs first got scent of it, and yet the animal managed to evade them. I was standing in a palmetto-scrub almost up to my shoulders, when about a dozen paces off I saw a movement among the leaves, which I suspected was caused by a wild beast of some sort. I stood ready to receive it. In a few seconds, catching a glimpse of a yellow skin, I fired, but my bullet failed to take effect; and the next instant an animal, with glaring eyes and outstretched claws, sprang towards me, as if about to fly at my throat. I was endeavouring to reload, when I heard a shot, and the creature fell dead almost at my feet. Turning round, I saw that it was Rochford who had fired.