but the young man only uttered an exclamation of disgust. He had
driven a ball through the vitals of a South American cougar, instead of
through one of the natives, a score of whom he gladly would have wiped
out of existence had he possessed the power.

The shot could not have been better aimed, had the sun been shining.
The furious beast dropped in the middle of the path, rolled over on his
back, clawed the air for a moment or two, and then became motionless.
Had not Ashman been on the lookout when he reached the spot, he would
have stumbled over the carcass.

"It is only so much ammunition thrown away," he muttered, again glaring
into the gloom behind him, in the hope of catching sight or sound of
his pursuers; but they were too thoroughly panic-stricken by the
frightful experience a few minutes before to trouble the white man for
some time to come.

The dull roar of the rapids grew plainer, and, increasing his pace, he
had but to walk a short distance when the clear moonlight, unobstructed
by cloud or vegetation, was discerned where the path debouched from the
forest.

The feeling that something had gone amiss in the camp during his
absence was so strong with Ashman that he slowed his walk and stopped
before emerging from the wood. He paused, however, at a point where he
had a full view not only of the camp but of the river and dark shore
beyond.

The sight which met his gaze was not calculated to soothe his nerves.
From some cause Bippo, Pedros and Quincal seemed to have been seized