After what seemed a long time to him in his intense agony, the dull, rasping sound ceased; the jaguar had ended its licking, but, as if loath to leave the spot, it allowed its head to fall forward on the half eaten body, with its nostrils lying on Jack's foot. Its slow and regular breathing finally told that it had fallen asleep after eating its dinner.

Jack a little later heard the cat-like steps of its mate leaving the place, until the pitter-patter died away in the distance.

Then, for the first time, he dared to open his eyes, though he did not venture to move his head or hand a particle.

He could see the sleeping jaguar's head and that was all that was in sight of the creature, that still remained motionless but likely to start up at his first movement.

As Jack's gaze followed his narrow orbit of vision he soon saw his firearm, which had slipped from him in his ride over the precipice and fallen near where he lay in that terrible situation.

He had no sooner seen the weapon than a wild desire to get possession of it filled his mind. If he only had that in his hands he believed he could shoot the jaguar before it could do him harm.

The longer he pondered upon this the stronger became the desire to make the attempt. Failure could not be any worse than that awful suspense, which in all probability must end in death.

Then, as he realized that the jaguar's mate might return at any moment, he resolved to make the bold venture without more delay.

He was first careful to make himself sure that the brute was still asleep, when he slowly and cautiously raised his hand enough to reach for the carbine, which fortunately lay stock toward him.

Not a sound broke the deathlike stillness of the lonely scene, save the labored breathing of the sleeping jaguar.

Never allowing his gaze to leave the creature, he continued to reach for the firearm until he felt his hand touch the stock.

As complete control as he had maintained over himself so far in the trying ordeal, at this critical moment he so far forgot himself as to draw a long breath--a breath of relief to think that he had something with which to defend himself.

That breath was instantly answered by a terrific growl!

It had awakened the light-sleeping beast, which quickly raised its head, and its whole appearance immediately changed, as it glared furiously around.

It seemed to realize at once that it had been fooled by this human creature within its clutch, and with another growl, louder, fiercer and more startling than any yet, it prepared to spring on its new victim.

But it was no quicker of action than Jack, who knew that his life hung on prompt work. At the same time he lifted the carbine from the ground, he c.o.c.ked the weapon. At that moment the open jaws of the aroused jaguar were thrust into his face, and the hot breath of the wild creature fanned his cheek. The next instant he ran the muzzle of the firearm into the maddened brute's throat and pulled the trigger.

A dull report followed, the jaguar's head was blown into fragments, and Jack knew that his life was saved.

Chapter XII

Put to the Test

Though he had no more to fear from this jaguar, Jack knew that its mate was likely to return at any moment, and as soon as he had recovered somewhat from the effect of the ordeal through which he had pa.s.sed, he freed himself from the weight of the pony's body.

He was glad to find that his limb had not received any serious injury, though it was so paralyzed from lying under the pressure that it was a few minutes before he could stand alone.

But he lost no more time than he could avoid before he left the place, feeling that his situation even then was not pleasant to contemplate. He was not only afoot in the heart of a trackless wilderness, but many miles from the nearest point of civilization.

Half an hour after leaving the scene of the jaguar's attack, he made a discovery which caused him no little concern.

He had lost his compa.s.s.

Realizing the risk of returning to the fatal spot, as well as the uncertainty of finding the lost instrument, he kept on without it, endeavoring to pursue as direct a course as possible.

In this he was unsuccessful, and two days later he was wandering at random through the intricate labyrinths of a Peruvian forest, nearly worn out and disheartened.

Hoping that his shots might be heard by some one who would come to his rescue, he had fired all but the last load of ammunition he had with him, and that charge was in his carbine.

"I might as well discharge that," he said to himself. "It is my last chance and I might as well take it now as later. It is useless for me to try to find my way out of this wilderness."

In his desperation he c.o.c.ked the weapon, and pointing it skyward pulled the trigger.

Loud and long rang out the report on the deep silence of the forest, the distant foothills taking up the sound and flinging it back to the valleys in echoes that repeated the detonation far and wide. As the last sullen sound died away in the distance he leaned against one of the trees, saying half aloud:

"I might as well meet the worst here as anywhere."

Five, ten, fifteen minutes pa.s.sed away, and satisfied that his last shot had been fired in vain, Jack started to resume his aimless wanderings, when the sound of footsteps fell upon his ears.

At first he thought it might be some wild beast prowling through the woods, but it was not long before a human figure burst into sight.

There was little of beauty in the youthful stranger who had thus unceremoniously appeared, but Jack had never been so glad to see any one in his life.

At sight of his woebegone countenance the newcomer came to a sudden halt in his impetuous advance, exclaiming in a voice with a peculiar and characteristic nasal tw.a.n.g:

"Consarn ye! who air yeou scrouched down there in that way? Aair yeou the feller who has been wasting ammunition so like a scart peon?"

The speaker's tone was not unfriendly, and Jack was nearly overjoyed to find that the new-comer was not a Peruvian.

Springing from his seat on a fallen tree, where he had sunk in his respair, he cried in genuine gladness:

"You're an American!"

"No more'n yeou air!" replied the other, brushing back his long blonde hair from his forehead as he spoke, and looking straight into our hero's countenance with a pair of deep blue eyes.

Then, when the two had stared upon each other for fully a minute, both burst into a fit of laughter.

"Shoo neow!" exclaimed the Yankee boy, "who air yeou and what air yeou doing here?"

"I might ask the same question of you," replied Jack. "My name is John North and I come from Banton, Connecticut.

"Bet yeou air called Jack every time. My name is Plummer Plucky, but I'm called Plum for short, though that is all they can make short about me. I hail from _New_ England too, and I'll bet my dad is hoeing taters in sight of Plymouth Rock."

"I am lost in this wilderness," went on Jack. "I hope you can show me the way out."

"Bet your boots on that. I live, leastways stop, not three hours' tramp from here, though if yeou had come to-morrer yeou wouldn't found me here.

I have been working on the estancia of Don de Estuaray, the dirtiest, meanest, miserliest, yellowest old Spaniard that ever drew the breath o'

this beautiful country."