the ruin.

'I think it is mine, cousin. Anyhow, if you feel lazy I'll make it so.'

'No, I'm not lazy, but I want to take home a bird or two to-morrow that
auntie's very soul loveth, so if you go on and get supper ready I shall go
round the red dune and try to find them.'

'You won't be long?'

'I sha'n't be over an hour.'

Archie rode on, humming a tune to himself. Arrived at the ruin, he cast
the mule loose, knowing he would not wander far away, and would find juicy
nourishment among the more tender of the cacti sprouts.

Having lit a roaring fire, and seen it burn up, Archie spread asunder some
of the ashes, and placed thereon a huge pie-dish--not an empty one--to
warm. Meanwhile he hung a kettle of water on the hook above the fire, and,
taking up a book, sat down by the window to read by the light of the
setting sun until the water should boil.

A whole half-hour passed away. The kettle had rattled its lid, and Archie
had hooked it up a few links, so that the water should not be wasted. It
was very still and quiet up here to-night, and very lonesome too. The sun
had just gone down, and all the western sky was aglow with clouds, whose
ever-changing beauty it was a pleasure to watch. Archie was beginning to
wish that Dugald would come, when he was startled at hearing a strange and
piercing cry far down below him in the cactus jungle. It was a cry that
made his flesh quiver and his very spine feel cold. It came from no human
lips, and yet it was not even the scream of a terror-struck mule. Next
minute the mystery was unravelled, and Dugald's favourite mule came
galloping towards the ruin, pursued by an enormous tiger, as the jaguar is
called here.

[Illustration: On the same Limb of the Tree]

Just as he had reached the ruin the awful beast had made his spring. His
talons drew blood, but the next moment he was rolling on the ground with
one eye apparently knocked out, and the foam around his fang-filled mouth
mixed with blood; and the mule was over the hills and safe, while the
jaguar was venting his fume and fury on Archie's rugs, which, with his
gun, he had left out there.

There is no occasion to deny that the young man was almost petrified with
fear, but this did not last long: he must seek for safety somehow,
somewhere. To leave the ruin seems certain death, to remain is impossible.
Look, the tiger even already has scented him; he utters another fearful
yell, and makes direct for the window. The tree!