I thanked Francisco for his information and went for my machete,
having my pistol already in my belt. I joined him at the foot of
the river bank outside the main building, where he was waiting for
me in his canoe, and we paddled down-stream to his hut. On our way
(he lived about two miles below Floresta) he told me that he was
walking at a good rate on the narrow path of the _estrada_ when
he was attracted by a growling and snarling in the thicket. He
stopped and saw a black jaguar grappling with a full-grown buck in
a small opening between the trees. The jaguar had felled the buck
by jumping on its back from the branches of a tree, and, with claws
deeply imbedded in the neck, broke its spine and opened its throat,
when Francisco drew the bead on the head or neck of the jaguar and
fired. The jaguar fell, roaring with pain. Francisco was too much
in a hurry to leave the narrow path of the rubber-workers and go
to the spot where the victim was writhing in its death agonies,
but hastened on for his dinner. Remembering later that the Coronel
had offered an attractive sum of money for any large game they would
bag for my benefit, and having finished his dinner, he paddled up to
headquarters and reminded the Coronel of the promised reward. When
we came to the hut of the rubber-worker a large dog greeted us. This
dog looked like a cross between a great Dane and a Russian greyhound;
it was rather powerfully built, although with a softness of movement
that did not correspond with its great frame. Francisco whistled for
the dog to follow us. He carried his Winchester and a machete, while
I discovered that my pistol had been left unloaded when I hurried
from headquarters, so I was armed with nothing but a machete. After
walking for nearly half an hour, we slowed down a little and Francisco
looked around at the trees and said that he thought we were on the
spot where he had heard the growlings of the jaguar. It was nearing
half-past five and the sun was low so we launched ourselves into the