as we have had an instance, issues out at night to seek its food. Here, look at its front feet: there are four toes (while on the hinder there are only three), their tips, as you observe, cased in small hoofs. See! the eyes are small and lateral, and the ears long and pointed. Observe the teeth, which are strong and powerful, to enable it to crush its food, or defend itself against its enemies. The hair, as you observe, is of a deep brown, nearly black, short, scanty, and closely depressed on the surface; while it has little or no tail. The animal is of enormous strength, and its tough hide enables it to force its way through the dense underwood, where no other creature can penetrate. It generally moves forward at a trot; but when pursued it breaks into a gallop, carrying its head downwards very much as does a hog. It holds its own against all the other animals of the forest, and, being of a peaceful disposition, never willingly attacks either man or beast; but the savage jaguar tries occasionally to make a feast off its carcass by leaping on its back. When the tapir feels its enemy, it rushes through the forest, attempting to dislodge it by passing under the low boughs of the trees; or, should water be near, by plunging in and diving down,—when it quickly escapes, as the jaguar must either let go its hold or be drowned. Its teeth being strong and sharp, it can inflict severe wounds when hunted and brought to bay, though it prefers seeking safety by flight.”
“Faith, doctor, you were fortunate in killing these fellows before they scented you, or they might have given you some ugly bites,” observed Tim, holding open one of the heads.
Having performed our unpleasant operation, we went down to the river to wash our hands, while Tim and the black beat the surface to scare away any alligators which might be prowling about. On our return to the camp we once more lay down, one of the party as before keeping watch; which was more than ever necessary, as the dead tapirs were very likely to attract either jaguars or pumas. We were unmolested, however.
In the morning, mounting our horses, we rode some distance before we breakfasted. Then we shot all day with a result highly satisfactory to the doctor, though we met with no adventures worth noting.
In the evening I found that we were not far from Padre Pacheco’s abode; and recollecting my promise to visit him, I proposed that we should go round that way. To this the doctor and Gerald agreed; and, accordingly, the next morning, after we had had a few hours’ shooting, we turned our horses’ heads in that direction.
On reaching the padre’s house we saw no one about. Fearing that he was ill, I went to the door and knocked, but nobody came. I tried to open the door; it was bolted. At last, seeing a cottage at some little distance, I rode towards it, and shouted out,—“Friends, can you tell me what has become of the padre?”
The door opened, and a native woman rushed out with a child at her back, exclaiming,—“Has he come back?—has he come back? O señor, we have lost him!”
“Lost him! How, and when?” I asked.
“Two days ago, when one of our people went to his house it was closed, and no one was within. Neither the señor padre nor Candela were to be found. It is said,” (and here she dropped her voice to a whisper) “the Gothos carried them off. They were here, that is certain; and we fear they have murdered him, as they have done so many other unfortunates.”
In vain I tried to draw more information from the poor woman, who showed, by her sorrow, the affection she felt for the worthy padre. We also made inquiries at other cottages in the neighbourhood, but received only the same answer.