ogates, pointing to some scattered boulders lying about the cave--
large blocks that have broken off from its roof, and fallen upon the
floor.

"Not a bad idea," rejoins Gaspar, "and one quite practicable," he adds,
with his eye taking in the dimensions of the cavern's mouth, but little
larger than an ordinary stable door. "You're right, Senor Cypriano; we
can do that."

Without further speech, they set about the work; first rolling the
larger masses of stalactite towards the entrance to form the foundation
of the wall. But before having got half-a-dozen of them fixed in their
places, a sound reaches their ears which causes them suddenly to desist;
for all three recognise it as coming from the throat of a jaguar! Not a
loud roar, or scream, such as they heard when that lying dead first made
its presence known, but a sort of sniff or snort, as when it was
struggling, half-choked by the ponchos. Soon, however, as they stand
listening, the snorting changes into a long low growl, ending in a gruff
bark; as of a watch-dog awakened by some slight noise, for which he is
not sure of its being worth his while to forsake his kennel, or spring
upon his feet.

Not thus doubtful are they. Instead, the sounds now heard excite and
terrify them as much as any that preceded; for they can tell that tiger
Number 2 is, as themselves, _within the cave_!

"_Por Dios_!" exclaims Gaspar, in a low tone of voice, "it's the old Tom
sure, and inside too! Ha! that accounts for our not being certain about
the she. Both were yelling at the same time, answering one another.
Where can the brute be?"

They turn their eyes toward the back of the cavern, but in the dim
glimmer can see nothing like a tiger. They only hear noises of
different kinds, made by their horses, then freshly affrighted, once
more sniffing the air and moving uneasily about.

"Your guns!" cries Gaspar in hurried accents; "get them loaded again!
If the _tigre_ attack us, as it's almost sure to do, our knives will be
of little use. _Viva, muschachos_!"

All together again lay hold of their guns; but where is the ammunition?
Stowed in a pair of holsters on the pommel of Cypriano's saddle, as they
well know--powder, balls, percussion-caps, everything. And where is the
horse himself; for, left loose, he has moved off to another part of the
cavern?

Cypriano taking the candle in hand, they go in search of him. Soon to
see that the frightened animal has taken refuge in