panther the volley, should he approach within
range.

The latter, however, had no design of molesting the travellers. He was
unaware of their presence. His whole attention was occupied with the
axis; upon whose ribs, or, perhaps, those of the fawn, he intended to
make his supper.

With crouching gait and silent tread he approached his intended victims,
stealing along the edge of the jungle. In a few seconds, he was near
enough to spring, and, as yet, the poor doe browsed unconsciously. He
was just setting his paws for the leap, and, in all probability, would
have pounced next moment upon the back of the deer, but, just in the
nick of time, Caspar chanced to sneeze. It was not done designedly, or
with, any intention of warning the deer; for all three of the hunters
were so absorbed in watching the manoeuvres of the panther, that they
never thought of such a thing. Perhaps the powerful odour of the
magnolia blossoms had been the cause; but, whether or no, Caspar
sneezed.

That sneeze was a good thing. It saved the tender mother and her gentle
fawn from the fangs of the ferocious panther. She heard it, and,
raising her head on the instant, glanced round. The crouching cat came
under her eyes; and, without losing a second of time, she sprang up to
the fawn, seized the astonished little creature in her mouth, and,
bounding like an arrow across the glade, was soon out of sight, having
disappeared into the jungle on the opposite side!

The panther, who had either not heard or not regarded the sneeze, sprang
out, as he had intended, but missed his aim. He ran a few stretches,
rose into the air, and, a second time, came down without touching the
deer; and then, seeing that the latter had sped beyond his reach,
according to the usual habit of all the _felidae_, he desisted from
farther pursuit. Trotting back whence he had come, he entered the
jungle before the hunters could get within shooting distance of him, and
was never more seen by any of the three.

As they returned to camp, Karl congratulated Caspar for having sneezed
so opportunely; though Caspar acknowledged that it was quite accidental,
and that, for his part, he would rather he had not sneezed at all, and
that he had either got a shot at the panther, or had a bit of the fawn
for his supper.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE PESTS OF THE TROPICS.

Much has been said and written in praise of the bright sun and the blue
skies of tropical countries; and tra