the hunt continued; one of the hunters almost concluded. explorations indulged in, and a capture effected.

“dar, massa, dar he is,” exclaimed quashy, in a hoarse whisper, pointing into the bushes.

“nonsense, man,” replied lawrence, in a low voice, “it’s only an ant-hill.”

even in that moment of excitement, lawrence could scarce refrain from laughter at the face of his humble follower, for quashy’s business in life had not accustomed him to much sport at any time; and the prospect of actually assisting at the slaughter of a jaguar or a puma had stirred every nerve and fibre of his black being into intense excitation, so that his eyes and nostrils were dilated to the utmost, and he panted vehemently—with hope, of course, not fear!

tiger, on the contrary, was cool and calm, though watchful. he paid no attention whatever to his companions, being too well acquainted with his work to stand in need of either advice or assistance from them.

as guide, the savage occupied the bow of the canoe; lawrence sat in the middle, and quashy in the stern, for he understood how to steer. having been admonished to hold his tongue, he crouched so as, if possible, to diminish his size. he also pursed his lips,—and what a tight rounding and projecting of superfluous flesh that pursing was no tongue can adequately tell. he also glared, and this “talking with the eyes” was a mute sermon in itself.

yet no jaguar could be seen. silently, with dip of paddle that made no sound, and glide of craft through the water that produced only an oily ripple, they slowly ascended the stream.

at first lawrence had seized his fowling-piece, which was charged with ball for the occasion; but as time passed, and the indian showed no intention of landing, he laid the gun down, and again took up his paddle.

after a time, through some inadvertence of quashy, the canoe was sent rather close in among the reeds and giant leaves of the bank.

“that was stupid of you, quash,” said lawrence, as he stood up to assist tiger in backing out.

“das true, massa,” said the negro, in profoundest humility of self-condemnation, “i’s a black idjit.”

as the fore part of the canoe had touched on a mudbank, lawrence seized one of the indian’s lances, and used the butt end as a pole with which to push off. under this impulse the canoe was gradually sliding into deep water, when a rustling of the leaves was heard, and next instant a full-sized jaguar sprang upon the indian with cat-like agility. whether the brute had slipped on the muddy bank we cannot say, but it missed its aim, and, instead of alighting on the shoulders of the man, it merely struck him on the head with one of its paws in passing, and went with a tremendous splash into the water.

tiger fell forward insensible from the severe scalp-wound inflicted. next instant the jaguar rose, grasped the edge of the canoe, and almost overturned it as it strove to climb in; and there is no doubt that in another moment it would have succeeded, for the attack was so sudden that quashy sat paralysed, while lawrence forgot his pistols, and his gun lay in the bottom of the canoe! happily, however, he recovered enough of presence of mind to use the lance in his hands. turning the point of the weapon to the jaguar’s mouth, he thrust it in with such tremendous force that it passed right down its throat and into its very vitals. with a gasping snarl the monster fell back into the stream, and was quickly drowned as well as impaled.

“help me to haul him on board,” cried lawrence.

thus awakened, the negro, relieving his feelings by giving vent to a roar which partook somewhat of a cheer, seized the jaguar’s tail. his master grasped its ears, and in another moment it lay in the bottom of the canoe.

“now, help to lay the poor fellow beside it,” said lawrence.

“o massa!—he not dead, eh?” groaned the negro, as he assisted in the work.

“no; nor likely to die yet a while,” replied lawrence, with much satisfaction, as he examined and bound up the scalp-wound. “it is not deep; he’ll soon come round; but we must get him home without delay. out with your paddle, quashy, and use it well. i’ll take the bow.”

the canoe, which, during these proceedings, had been floating slowly down stream, was now turned in the right direction, and in a short time was out upon the larger river.

here, however, they had to labour with energy against the stream, and it was far on in the afternoon before they came in sight of the indian’s hut. by that time spotted tiger had partially recovered, as lawrence observed during a pause made for rest. on reaching an eddy, which carried the canoe in the right direction, they rested again. the cessation of paddling appeared to rouse the wounded man, for he sat up, and, with a half-dazed look, stared at the head of the dead jaguar, on the haunch of which his elbow leaned. then he cast an inquiring look at lawrence, who replied to him with a nod and a smile, and went on to indicate, by means of pantomime, what had occurred.

he pointed to the animal’s claws, and to tiger’s head; then to the bloody spear which lay at his side, and to the jaguar’s blood-stained throat, after which he pointed to his own breast and nodded again.

the indian evidently understood him, for an expression of gratitude overspread his countenance as he extended his right hand—english fashion—for a shake. our hero was not slow to grasp it, and the two exchanged a squeeze which told of lasting friendship and good-will.

a few minutes later, and the canoe was run upon the bank in front of the hut, where all the children were assembled to receive them.

it did not seem as if any of the family were deeply affected by the shaky appearance of the father as he stepped on shore, but the younger members evinced feelings of intense delight when the jaguar was lifted out; and two of them, seizing the tail as a tow-rope, passed it over their shoulders, and dragged the carcass up to the hut to show it to their mother.

o mothers! loving repositories of childhood’s joys and woes, ye are unquestionably the same in substance and in spirit all the world over!

tiger’s wife was more affected than lawrence expected she would have been by her husband’s accident, and tended him with anxious care. by taking hold of him, and laying him gently down in a corner opposite to that of his sick child, lawrence gave him to understand that it was his duty to take rest. to say truth, he did not require much persuasion, but at once laid his head on his pillow, and quietly went to sleep.

“the hospital is filling rather quickly, manuela,” said lawrence, when he had finished tending his new patient, “and your duties are increasing, i fear.”

“no fear. me likes to nuss,” replied the girl, with a look that puzzled the young doctor.

it was manuela’s fascinating smile that came hardest on our poor hero. when she looked grave or sad, he could regard her as a mere statue, an unusually classical-looking bronze savage; but when she smiled, there was something so bewitchingly sweet in the lines of her little face that he felt constrained to shut his eyes, turn away, and groan in spirit, to think that she was brown, and a savage!

“was there ever a case,” he thought, “so mysteriously miserable, so singularly sad, as mine! if she were only white, i would marry her at once, (if she would have me), for the sake of her gentle spirit alone,—ay, even though she were the child of a costermonger; but i cannot, i do not, love a savage, the daughter of a savage chief, with a skin the colour of shoe leather! no, it is impossible! and yet, i am in love with her spirit. i know it. i feel it. i never heard of such a strange thing before,—a man in love with a portion of a woman, and that the immaterial portion!”

the last word changed the current of his thoughts, for it suggested the idea of another “portion” belonging to some girls with which men are too apt to fall in love!

“massa, de grub’s ready,” said quashy, entering the hut at that moment.

“go to work then, quash. don’t wait. i’ll be with you directly.”

but quashy did wait. he was much too unselfish a son of ebony to think of beginning before his master.

when they had seated themselves on the grass outside the hut, along with manuela, who left her post of duty in order to dine, and had made a considerable impression on the alligator-ragout and tiger-steaks and other delicacies, quashy heaved a deep sigh of partial satisfaction, and asked if tiger would be well enough to go out hunting next day.

“i think not,” said lawrence; “no doubt he may feel able for it, but if he shows any disposition to do so, i shall forbid him.”

“how you forbid him, when you not can speak hims tongue?” asked manuela, in a mild little voice, but with an arch look to which her arched black eyebrows gave intense expression.

“well,” replied lawrence, laughing, “i must try signs, i suppose, as usual.”

“no use, massa,” said quashy; “nebber make him understan’. i gib you a plan. see here. you tie him up hand an’ foot; den we go off huntin’ by our lone, an’ let him lie till we comes back.”

lawrence shook his head. “i fear he would kill us on our return. no, we must just go off early in the morning before he wakes, and get manuela to try her hand at sign-language. she can prevail on him, no doubt, to remain at home.”

“i vill try,” said manuela, with a laugh.

in pursuance of this plan, lawrence and quashy rose before broad daylight the following morning, launched the little canoe they had used the day before, put gun, spears, etcetera, on board, and were about to push off, when one of the boys of the family ran down, and seemed to wish to accompany them.

“we’d better take him,” said lawrence; “he’s not very big or old, but he seems intelligent enough, and no doubt knows something of his father’s haunts and sporting customs.”

“you’s right, massa,” assented the negro.

lawrence made a sign to the lad to embark, and quashy backed the invitation with—

“jump aboord, leetle cub.”

instead of obeying, leetle cub ran up into the bush, but presently returned with a long stick like a headless lance, a bow and arrows, and an instrument resembling a large grappling anchor, made of wood. placing these softly in the canoe, the little fellow, who seemed to be about ten years of age, stepped in, and they all pushed off into the river—getting out of sight of the hut without having roused any one. turning into the same stream which they had visited the day before, they pushed past the place where the jaguar had been killed, and entered on an exploration, as lawrence called it.

“i’m very fond of an exploration, quashy,” he said, dipping his paddle softly, and working gently, for there was so little current that it seemed more like the narrows of a lake than a stream.

“yes, i’s bery fond ob ’sploration too, massa,” replied the negro, with a self-satisfied nod. “it am so nice not to know whar you’s gwine to, or whar you’s comin’ to, or who’s dar, or who’s not dar, or what fish’ll turn up, or what beast’ll turn down, or what nixt—oh! it am so jolly! what you sniggerin’ at, you dirty leetle cub?”

the question was put to the indian boy, who seemed much amused by something he saw up among the trees.

looking up they saw at least a dozen red monkeys grinning at them, and one of these—a small one—was hanging on by its father’s tail.

“oh! shoot! shoot!” cried quashy to lawrence, opening his great eyes eagerly. “dey’s so good to eat!”

“no, quash, i won’t shoot. we have shot enough of fat ducks to feed us all for one or two days at least. besides, i can’t bear to kill monkeys. it feels so like committing murder.”

while he was yet speaking, leetle cub had taken up the long lance-like stick before mentioned and pointed it at the monkeys. it was a blow-pipe. before lawrence could interfere, the short arrow with which it was charged had sped on its mission with deadly aim, and the smallest monkey, relaxing its hold of the paternal tail, fell without even a cry into the water—shot through the heart.

lawrence said nothing, but, resolving that if the boy should attempt such another shot, he would disturb his aim, he dipped his paddle vigorously, and pushed up the river.

coming at last to an open space where the stream widened into something like a little pond, they observed an erection of timber on the bank which aroused their curiosity. it also seemed to arouse the cub’s interest, for he made somewhat excited signs that he wished to land there. willing to humour him, they ran the canoe on the beach. leetle cub jumped out at once, and, taking up the anchor-like piece of wood before mentioned, went with it towards the timber erection.

“i do believe it is an alligator-hook,” said lawrence.

“das a fact,” said quashy, “we’ll washum,” (by which he meant, “we’ll watch him!”)

it was indeed interesting to watch that little fellow—who was evidently in all respects a thorough chip of the old block—as he went about his work, quietly, yet with an undercurrent of excitement which he was not entirely able to conceal. he took his bow and arrows, as well as the blow-pipe, on shore, and laid them at his side, so as to be ready at hand in case of emergency, while he baited the alligator-hook with the dead monkey.

the hook was simple. it consisted of four pieces of tough hard wood, about a foot long, and the thickness of a man’s thumb. these were tied to the end of a stout rope made of raw hide, and so arranged that their points were directed backwards, and curved somewhat outwards—thus forming as it were four huge barbs. the dead monkey was placed on and around this horrible hook—if we may so term it. the delicate morsel was then attached to the end of a pole which stretched over the stream, so that the bait, when fixed, remained suspended just above the water. the slack of the rope was then made fast to a tree. thus the arrangement was such as to compel the alligator to raise himself well out of the water to obtain his mouthful.

while leetle cub was engaged in erecting this cumbrous machine, a young alligator, about a foot long, crawled out from under some leaves on the bank close to him. the urchin saw it instantly, seized his bow, and in a moment transfixed it with an arrow. the fury of the little creature, infant though it was, seemed tremendous. it turned round, snapping viciously at the arrow, and would probably have escaped with it into the water if another shot from the same unerring hand had not terminated its career.

after setting his line, the cub carried the little alligator to the canoe, and put it carefully therein.

“das what dey make de soup ob,” said quashy.

“the ragout, you mean.”

“dun’ know what’s a ragoo, massa. we calls it soup. anyhow, it’s bery good.”

“yes, quash, it’s not bad. but look there, our daring and expert young hunter evidently wants us to land, for he is pointing to the bush. shall we go?”

“p’r’aps it’s as well, massa. ob course no alligator’s sitch a fool as swaller dat little mout’ful when we’s a-lookin’ at it. i s’pose leetle cub wants us to go away, an’ gib ’em a chance.”

having made up their minds to gratify the little fellow, they landed and accompanied him into the woods. he seemed quite to expect that they would do so and follow his lead. he set off at a smart pace in advance of them, carrying his bow on his shoulder. lawrence was well repaid by this walk, because it led him into and through scenery of a more striking and beautiful character than he had yet seen of its kind. in many places the trees formed long aisles and vaulted colonnades and arches so regular that it seemed as though they had been planted by the hand of man. elsewhere the chaos of tree and shrub, flower and fern and twining root was so indescribable, that it seemed as if chance and haphazard had originated it all; but the mind of our hero was cast, if we may say so, in too logical a mould to accept such an absurd origin for anything.

“my father made it all,” he said, mentally, with a glow of enthusiasm; “and although, like a little child gazing at an intricate machine, i see not the order or arrangement, certain am i that both must be there.”

between the tree-stems they saw ant-hills fully five or six feet high. from the trees hung thousands of orchids of various colours, and so attractive was the aspect of things overhead, that lawrence was more than once tripped up by the long tangled grasses through which, in some parts, they had to push their way. of course, there were plenty of parrots and monkeys and other creatures to make the forest lively. indeed, in some parts there seemed a prospect of its becoming still more lively, for their little guide pointed out in soft places the footprints of tapirs and jaguars, which seemed to be quite fresh. lizards innumerable crossed their path at every point; snakes were seen gliding out of their way—a fortunate tendency on the part of most snakes!—and the woods resounded with the singing of the yapu, a bird something like a blackbird, with yellow tips to its wings, and somewhat like the mocking-bird in that it imitated every other bird in the forest. whether there is jealousy between the yapu and the parrot we have not been able to ascertain, but if birds are like men in their sentiments, we fear it is more than probable. unlike man, however, the yapu prefers to sing upside-down, swinging the while from the branch of a tree, and ruffling its plumage.

“hallo! massa. look dar!” said quashy, pointing with intense surprise at a neighbouring tree-stem. “did you ebber see a crab climbin’ up a tree?”

“i certainly never did,” replied lawrence, as he looked in the direction indicated, where he saw, not a crab indeed, but a monstrous hairy spider as large as a goodly-sized crab. stepping forward to examine the creature, he was surprised to have his hat twitched off his head, and found that it was the web of the said spider which had done it! afterwards he learned that the spider in question subsists by catching little birds, and that its bite is not so venomous as that of a smaller kind which abounds in the woods there. not being desirous of testing the creature’s power in that way at the time, he contented himself with inspecting it, and listening to a learned dissertation on spiders in general from quashy, as he afterwards walked on.

good fortune seemed to smile on them that day, for they had not advanced a hundred yards further when two large jaguars crossed their path. it is probable that they did not see the hunters, for they did not look up, but, gliding cat-like into the jungle, quickly disappeared.

perhaps it was fortunate that lawrence and his man recovered their presence of mind when too late, for if they had fired hastily and only wounded the creatures, it might have brought to an abrupt end their terrestrial career. as it was. quashy recovered with a gasp, drew his two double-barrelled pistols, which in his eagerness he neglected to cock, and, with one in each hand, rushed yelling after the jaguars. lawrence cocked his gun and followed at a smart, though more sedate, pace. leetle cub, who probably thought them both fools, ran after them with a broad grin on his dingy countenance.

we need scarcely say that the pursuit was useless. quashy returned in a few minutes with labouring breath, and streaming at every pore. lawrence, scarcely less blown, sat down on a fallen tree and laughed when his lungs permitted. of course he was joined by the sympathetic black, echoed by the small boy, and imitated—not badly—by a number of parrots which wisely availed themselves of the rare opportunity to learn a lesson from man!

as they advanced the path became more encumbered and difficult to traverse, so they determined to return. their little guide, however, seemed to object very strongly, and made wonderful gesticulations in his efforts to induce them to go on. lawrence, however, remained firm. seeing at last that his followers had determined to rebel, the cub gave up trying to influence them, scooped a quantity of wild honey out of a hole in a tree, and, sitting down in a half-sulky mood, sought to console himself by eating the same.

“come, we’ll follow you in that, at all events,” said lawrence, seating himself beside the child and regaling himself with the sweet food. quashy followed his example with right good-will.

when their modest meal was over they returned to the river. the little boy, on nearing it, ran anxiously forward in advance, and soon they perceived by his frantic gesticulations and shouts that something of interest awaited them there.

“he’s cotched!” cried quashy, and darted off as if shot from a catapult.

lawrence followed, using his long legs to such advantage that he was not far behind his man; for although gifted with greater powers of self-restraint than quashy, our hero was not a whit behind him in strong enthusiasm.

they found that an alligator—not, indeed, of the largest size, but nevertheless about six or seven feet long—had swallowed the monkey, and was tugging at the rope like a mad thing—turning round and round in its rage, and smacking the water with its resounding tail.

instantly they all laid hold of the rope, and began to drag it towards the bank.

“how shall we manage to kill it?” said lawrence, as the monster came close in.

“stick ’im! shot ’im! hang ’im. nebber mind dat. git ’im fust,—kill ’im arter,” gasped the negro, as he strained at the rope, ably seconded by his comrades.

it was a hard tussle, and might have been unsuccessful if lawrence and quashy had not possessed more than average physical strength. as it was, they pulled the monstrous animal just near enough to get his head clear of the water, and then, putting several balls into him, killed him outright.

“plenty ragoo now, massa!” exclaimed the negro, with a broad grin, after they had stowed the carcass in the canoe.

“yes, quash, more than enough.”

leetle cub seemed to have his mind running in the same direction, for he eyed the alligator with longing looks, and licked his lips expressively as they re-entered the canoe, shoved off, and directed the bow homeward.