"As a rock," was the reply. "Good-bye to little old New York if it wasn't.
Funny notion that a jaguar should be trying to eat a Wolf and a Black
Bear."

"And a baby Wolf, too," added Jimmie. "My beast is coming on, bound to
investigate this tree. When he gets so close that he can spring I'll give
the word, and we'll shoot together."

The cat approached slowly. At first it did not seem to catch the scent of
prey in the neighborhood of the tree. It came on with cautious steps,
crouching low, as if ready to leap.

Then the female caught sight and scent of the boys and uttered a low cry
of warning which the male appeared to understand, for in a second its ears
were laid down on its neck and the belly touched the ground.

"When you shoot keep the lead going," advised Jimmy. "Now!"

Again, in that splendid tropical scene, there was a puff of smoke, one,
two, three, four. Again the odor of burned powder attacked the nostrils
and clouded the heavy air. Again there was a great floundering in the
thicket.

The boys stood waiting for the snarling impact, but none came.

CHAPTER XV.

SIGNAL FIRES IN THE JUNGLE.

"I guess we got 'em," Jimmie cried, as the smoke drifted away.

"I got mine."

Peter spoke proudly, just as if there had been no fear of the result a
moment before.

"Mine's lying down to rest," Jimmie went on. "I'm goin' up to feel his
pulse."

"If he gets a swipe at you, you'll wish you hadn't been so curious about
his old pulse," Peter observed.

But Jimmie did not at once go toward the wounded beast. The great cat
lifted its head, gave a cry that echoed and re-echoed through the forest,
and sprang for the tree. The boy's revolver spoke again, and the long
hours of practice with the weapon in the shooting galleries of New York
told. The beast dropped to the ground with a bullet in the brain, sent in
exactly between the eyes.

The female lifted her head at the cry and tried to regain her feet, but
was not strong enough to do so. With a turn of her pretty head in the
direction of her mate, she fell back dead.

"It's almost a shame," Peter said.

"You wouldn't be so sorry for the cats if they had got a claw into you,"
Jimmie observed. "Just one claw in the flesh and it would have been all
off."

Peter turned away from the dead animals.

"Come on," he said, "it seems like a slaughter house here."

"Wait," Jimmie cried. "I want to swing the cats up so they won't be
devoured by their frie