you; I'm too tired," said Rob. "I was not so fagged before,
but after lying down there so long I'm as stiff as can be. Oh, bother!
something stung me. It's one of those ants. Brush them off."

Joe performed the kindly duty, and they were on the way to join the
others, when there was a rustling sound just in front, and the young
Italian started back.

"A snake--a snake!" he panted, as he caught Rob's arm. "Shoot!"

"Well, you shoot too," said the latter rather sharply, for Joe seemed to
have forgotten that he had a gun in his hand.

But Rob could not boast, for as the dry grass and scrubby growth in
front moved he raised his piece, and drew first one trigger, then the
other: there was no result--he had forgotten to cock.

Lowering the gun he rapidly performed this necessary operation, and was
about to raise it again and wait, for in the hurry and excitement he had
been about to obey his companion and deliver a chance shot almost at
random amongst the moving grass--so great was the horror inspired by the
very name of one of the reptiles which haunted the moist swamps near the
riverside.

But, to the surprise of both, it was no huge anaconda which had been
worming its way toward them; for at the sound of the lock--_click_,
click--a beautiful warm-grey creature bounded lithely out almost to
where they stood, and there paused, watching them and waving its long
black tail.

"A lion," whispered Joe, who remained as if paralysed by the sudden
bound of the cat-like creature, which stood as high as a mastiff dog,
but beautifully soft-looking and rounded in its form, its ears erect,
eyes dilated, and motionless, all but that long writhing tail.

In those few moments Rob's powers of observation seemed as if they were
abnormally sharpened, and as he noted the soft hairs toward the end of
the tail erected and then laid down, and again erected, making it look
thick and soft, he noted too that the muzzle was furnished with long
cat-like whiskers, and the head was round, soft, and anything but cruel
and fierce of aspect.

"Shoot--shoot!" whispered Joe: "the ball--not the small shot."

But Rob did not stir; he merely stood with the muzzle of the gun
presented toward the beast, and did not raise it to his shoulder. Not
that he was stupefied by the peril of his position, but held back by the
non-menacing aspect of the puma. Had there been a display of its fangs
or an attempt to crouch for a spring, the gun would have bee