e been followed all this long way, and the shooting must
have located us."

This was a very natural conclusion, and the boys crept behind the bole of
a tree and waited for what seemed to them a long time. Then footsteps were
heard, soft, stealthy steps, like those of a man walking in padded
stockings. The great leaves of a huge plant with red blossoms moved, and a
pair of fierce eyes looked out.

"That's a panther," whispered Jimmie.

"A South American jaguar," Peter corrected. "They eat men when they get
desperately hungry."

The great cat moved out from behind the plant and stood in the shaft of
moonlight. It was a graceful beast, an alert, handsome creature of the
woods, but did not look in that way to the boys just then.

In size it was nearly the equal of the full grown tiger. The head was
large, the body thick yet supple, the limbs robust. In color it was of a
rich yellow, with black rings, in which stood black dots, marking the
sides.

The beast is known as the South American tiger, and is by far the most
powerful and dangerous of tropic beasts of prey. It is swift enough to
capture horses on the open pampas and strong enough to drag them away
after the kill. In some of the countries south of the Isthmus the jaguar
is a menace to the inhabitants, and settlements have been deserted because
of them. It is rarely that one is found as far north as the Isthmus.

While the boys watched the cat slipped out one soft paw after the other
and looked about, as if awakened from sleep. Then it moved toward the tree
behind which the boys were partly concealed.

"Now for it," whispered Peter. "If we miss it is all off with one of us."

"He may not come here," Jimmie said, hopefully. "He was probably brought
here by the smell of blood. Say! Don't you hear something back of us? This
cat's mate may be there."

And the cat's mate was there. Not looking in their direction, but sitting
up like a house cat, watching the swaying body of the serpent. Her nose
was pushed out a trifle, as if scenting supper in the dangling horror.

"The mate is here, all right," Peter said, in a whisper. "We're between
the two of them. What is the first one doing?"

"Coming on," whispered Jimmie, "and I've got only three shots in my gun."

"That's all you will have time to use if you miss the first one," Peter
said.

"That's right," Jimmie returned.

"And we'll have to shoot together," Peter went on.

"Is your hand steady?" asked Jimmie.