says, would not refuse any food offered to it; but when not hungry it
would bury the meat in the sand, and when inclined to eat dig it up,
and, taking it to the water-trough, wash it clean. I have only known one
puma kept as a pet, and this animal, in seven or eight years had never
shown a trace of ill-temper. When approached, he would lie down, purring
loudly, and twist himself about a person's legs, begging to be caressed.
A string or handkerchief drawn about was sufficient to keep him in a
happy state of excitement for an hour; and when one person was tired of
playing with him he was ready for a game with the next comer.

I was told by a person who had spent most of his life on the pampas that
on one occasion, when travelling in the neighbourhood of Cape
Corrientes, his horse died under him, and he was compelled to continue
his journey on foot, burdened with his heavy native horse-gear. At night
he made his bed under the shelter of a rock, on the slope of a stony
sierra; a bright moon was shining, and about nine o'clock in the evening
four pumas appeared, two adults with their two half-grown young. Not
feeling the least alarm at their presence, he did not stir; and after a
while they began to gambol together close to him, concealing themselves
from each other among the rocks, just as kittens do, and frequently
while pursuing one another leaping over him. He continued watching them
until past midnight, then fell asleep, and did not wake until morning,
when they had left him.

This man was an Englishman by birth, but having gone very young to South
America he had taken kindly to the semi-barbarous life of the gauchos,
and had imbibed all their peculiar notions, one of which is that human
life is not worth very much. "What does it matter?" they often say, and
shrug their shoulders, when told of a comrade's death; "so many
beautiful horses die!" I asked him if he had ever killed a puma, and he