ated how,
upon one occasion in his youth, when he was very fond of jaguar hunting,
he only slightly wounded an animal with his lance, and the jaguar,
closing with him, knocked him down with his paw. Keeping his presence
of mind, however, he drew his long knife with one hand, while he seized
the throat of the jaguar with the other. A desperate struggle ensued,
and he received several severe wounds from the claws and teeth of the
creature. As he rolled over and over he made good use of his knife,
stabbing his antagonist until the jaguar sank down dead from loss of
blood. He managed to crawl home, and recovered. He declared that as
soon as he was well again he went out hunting, and killed a couple of
jaguars, in revenge for the injuries he had received.

On another occasion, while out hunting, he fell asleep on a bank,
exhausted by fatigue. Suddenly he was awakened by a tremendous blow on
the side of the head. His natural impulse was to start up and shout
lustily, when he saw a huge jaguar standing close to him, about to
repeat the salute. His cries were heard by his companions, who were at
a short distance, and they hastened to his assistance. The jaguar,
however, was probably not very hungry, for before he could use his
manchette, or his friends come up, the creature bounded off, leaving the
hunter with the top of his ear torn away, and an ugly scratch on his
head. Still the old Indian was of opinion that the jaguar seldom
attacks human beings unless first molested by them.

We encountered and killed another animal, much in the same way as the
first; and having secured their skins, we returned to the farm, and
afterwards set off on our way home. As we emerged from the forest we
saw that clouds of inky blackness were collecting rapidly overhead, and
spreading across the whole valley.

"We must push forward, for we are about to have a storm, and no slight
one," observed Uncle Richard. "Fast as we may go, however, we shall not
escape the whole of it."

Scarcely had he spoken when a flash of the most vivid lightning darted
from the sky, wriggling along the ground like a huge snake.

"It's well that we are in the open country; but even here we may be
overtaken by one of those flashes--though Heaven grant that they may
pass us by," said Uncle Richard.

The flashes were succeeded by the most tremendous roars of thunder, as
if the whole artillery of heaven were being discharged at once. The
animals we rode st