which the Indians believe possessed of supernatural powers; and, as I
had never met with one, I was anxious that we should come across it.

"And didn't you aim at it?" cried my friend.

"No; I ran away," replied the fearless tiger-hunter.

Thus l'Encuerado, whom the evening before we had seen braving tigers,
crocodiles, and wild cattle, now trembled at the mere idea of facing an
inoffensive animal, which was only a relation of the peccaries, with a
snout terminated by a non-prehensile proboscis, yet to which his
imagination attributed certain demoniac qualities. He that night utterly
refused to go to rest; at the least rustling of the leaves he expected
to see the ghost appear. Instead of directly opposing his error--which I
knew would be of no use--I endeavored to convince him that my power far
surpassed that of the object of his dread.

[Illustration: "The reeds were pushed aside."]

"If it wasn't for that," I urged on him, "do you think I would permit
Lucien to sleep in so dangerous a neighborhood?"

Sumichrast gave the Indian two bullets, and solemnly told him that with
these projectiles he would surely kill the object of his dread if he
aimed straight. L'Encuerado gradually recovered his self-possession; the
idea of slaying in one of its most formidable shapes the cause of his
superstition excited his self-esteem, and he went to sleep, and no doubt
dreamt of his next day's exploit.

At day-break we walked down to the confluence of the two rivers; in
front of us stretched a broad prairie covered with thick grass. If the
tapir had not quenched its thirst in the night, it would be sure to
reappear; therefore Lucien and Sumichrast turned to the left close by
the stream, while I and my servant crouched down behind the trunk of a
tree at the entrance of the forest.

We remained in this position for more than an hour, when suddenly the
reeds were pushed, aside, and two of the looked-for pachyderms came out
together on the green-sward.

L'Encuerado kept on crossing himself without intermission.

"Fire," said I, in a low voice, "and aim straight at the forehead."

The gun went off, and the tapirs decamped; but one of them fell on the
ground before it could enter the water; it was dead ere we reached it.

"You have killed the object of your dread," said Lucien, who ran up to
examine the curious animal.

"Yes, Chanito, thanks to the enchanted bullets."

L'Encuerado having positively refused to touch the tapir