lden haze, which hung over the empurpled bosom of the water on which
the canoe was floating. Just above, in the middle of the current, and
scarce two shots distant from where the two men were, a sight appeared
to the ravished eyes of the tiger-hunter that caused him at once to
change his position in the boat.

"_Mira_!" exclaimed he in a half-whisper. "Look, Clara! Did you ever
behold a more beautiful sight?"

With his claws stuck into the floating carcass of a colt upon which he
was feeding, an enormous jaguar was suffering himself to float gently
down the stream. It was the male one, the same from which the last
howlings had proceeded.

With his head outstretched and curving over his fore paws, his hind legs
drawn up under his belly, his back highly arched, and his flanks
quivering with a supple undulation that betokened activity and power,
was seen the royal beast of the American jungle. The dying rays of the
sun falling upon his glossy skin displayed his splendid coat of bright
yellow ocellated with spots of deepest black.

It was one of those beautiful savage spectacles often exhibited to the
eyes of the Indian hunter--a magnificent episode in that eternal poem
which the wilderness is constantly repeating.

Scarce taking time to gaze upon it, Costal passed the paddle to his
companion; and, gun in hand, crouched down in the bottom of the canoe.

Clara accepted the oar, and half mechanically commenced rowing. He had
made no reply to the enthusiastic interrogatory of the hunter. Fear
held him speechless.

At that moment a growl, resembling the deepest tones of an ophicleide,
resounded from the throat of the jaguar, rolling over the surface of the
water to the ears of the men seated in the canoe. He had seen his
enemies, and this was his signal of defiance.

The Indian replied by a cry somewhat similar, as the bloodhound utters
his wild bay on seeing his victim before him.

"It's the male!" said Costal, apparently pleased that it was so.

"Fire, then!" cried Clara, at last finding his tongue.

"Fire, _Carrambo_! no. My gun does not carry so far. Besides, I shoot
best when my game is nearer the muzzle. I wonder," continued he,
looking up to the bank, "that the female has not found him! No doubt,
if we wait a little, we'll see her coming bounding up with the
_cachorros_ at her heels."

"_Dios nos ampare_!" (God preserve us!) muttered the negro in a
melancholy tone; for he feared that Costal wou