"I dursn't shoot, Master Nat, I dursn't shoot. I aren't clever with a gun, and I should hit you."

I knew this was quite true, and that under the circ.u.mstances I dared not have fired, so I lay perfectly still, trying to think out what to do, for the animal seemed determined not to leave me, and I began to grow giddy as well as faint.

Then I started, for there was a rustling of the gra.s.s and a sharp crack, as if Pete had trodden upon a dead twig.

The puma growled again furiously, and then as I started, seized my collar tight in its teeth and shook me, for the sharp report of the gun Pete carried rang out, followed by that of a second barrel, when I heard the loud whirr of wings, and felt sure that three or four more specimens of the lovely orange-tinted birds I sought had been scared into flight.

But the firing in the air had not scared the puma, which lowered its head again and seized my collar, clinging tightly, and working its claws in and out of their sheaths.

"It's no good, Master Nat," cried Pete; "it don't frighten him a bit.

Shall I run back and tell the doctor?"

"No," I said softly, so as not to irritate the puma; "you could not get back till after dark, and I should be dead before then."

"What shall I do then, Master Nat? What shall I do? I want to save you, but I'm such a coward. I don't care, though; he shall have my knife into him if I die for it! Ah, I know!" he cried exultingly, "Whoo--hoo--oo--oo--oo!"

To my astonishment and delight, just as I was nearly fainting, the puma gave a furious growl and a tremendous bound, leaving me free, and as I struggled to my feet, panting and exhausted, I caught sight of Pete twenty yards away in the act of picking up his straw hat, with which he returned to me, grinning with delight.

"That done it," he cried. "He couldn't understand it a bit, I sent my old hat skimming at him, and I say, he did cut away. I say, you aren't much hurt, are you, sir?"

"N-no," I said hesitatingly, "I think not. Look at my neck and shoulder. See if they bleed."

"Yes," cried Pete excitedly, "he's got hold of you at the back o' the neck and ragged you. Where's your hankychy?"

I turned deathly sick with horror as I drew out my handkerchief and gave it to him; and then I felt ashamed of myself, for Pete burst out laughing.

"He aren't touched your neck, Master Nat," he cried, "on'y got hold of the collar of your jacket and chawed it a bit. I say, who'd ha' thought an old straw hat was better than a gun!"

"Can we get some water?" I said hoa.r.s.ely.

"Yes, there's some trickles down into a bit of a pool yonder, where I found my hat. Come on."

A few minutes later I was bathing my hands and face, after we had lain down and drunk heartily of the sweet, cool, clear water, to rise up refreshed, and as the puma had disappeared, feeling as if the danger through which we had pa.s.sed was very far away.

"How d'yer feel now, Master Nat?" asked Pete.

"Oh, better; much better," I said quickly.

"Good job he didn't begin eating of you, ain't it, sir?"

"Yes, Pete, a very good job," I said heartily.

"Then let's go on and shoot some more of them yaller birds."

I shook my head as I held out one hand, which was trembling.

"I don't think I could hit a bird now, Pete, after that upset."

"Oh, yes, you could, sir," he cried. "Let's go on; and I say, if you see my gentleman again, you pepper him, and he won't come near us any more."

"I don't know, Pete," I said thoughtfully; "the pain might make it more vicious. Let's get back to the boat. I feel as if I've done quite enough for one day."

I finished reloading my gun as I spoke, so as to be ready for emergencies, and turned to retrace our steps to the rocky descent to the stream, when Pete touched my arm.

"Coming back here to drink," he whispered.

I forgot all about the shock and nervousness the next moment, as I saw the flutter of approaching wings, and directly after my gun rang out with two reports, while as the smoke floated away, Pete triumphantly ran to where a couple of the orange birds had fallen.

"I say, Master Nat," he said, "you can shoot. Wish I could do that.

You seem just to hold the gun up and it's done. I knew you could. They are beauties. Something better worth taking back than we had before."

The birds' plumage was carefully smoothed, and without further adventure we reached the top of the vast rocky wall and descended to the stream, where we had another refreshing draught close to the mouth of the natural arch through which the water flowed, and then tramped back to the boat, reaching it at sundown, where my uncle was, as I had said, in ecstasies with the beautiful birds we had brought.

I was as pleased, but just then I thought more of the pleasant roast-bird supper and the coffee that awaited us, and paid more attention to these than anything else.

Over the supper, though, I related our experience with the pumas, and my uncle looked serious.

"You got off well, Nat," he said. "They are not dangerous beasts, though, unless attacked and hurt. I'd give them as wide a berth in future as I could. I'm thankful that you had such an escape."

CHAPTER NINE.

THROUGH THE CAVERN.

My uncle accompanied me in my next and several other visits to the upper valley, with the result that we obtained as many specimens of the beautiful orange birds as we required, and in addition several rare kinds of humming-birds; but strangely enough, anxious as I was that my uncle should see one of the pumas they were never encountered once.

The whole of the upper valley was very lovely, and the air, from its being so high up among the mountains, deliciously cool.

"It seems a pity," my uncle said, "that n.o.body lives here." For as far as we could make out in our many journeys, human beings had never penetrated its solitudes.

"Yes," I said, on one of these occasions, "it is a glorious place, uncle, and anyone might make it a lovely garden with hardly any trouble; but I shouldn't like to live here after all."

"Why?" he said. "You seem very hard to please."

"The place isn't perfect, uncle," I said.

"No place is, but I don't see much to find fault with. Oh, you mean that we can find no quetzals."

"No, I did not," I said. "I meant we find too many rattlesnakes."

"Ah, yes, they are a nuisance, Nat; but they always get out of our way if they can, and so long as they don't bite us we need not complain.

Well, we have pretty well explored this valley, and it is time we tried another. We must get farther to the south."

"Why not strike off, then, from the top of the great cliff above the arch, and try and find where the stream dives down?"

"What!" he said; "you don't think, then, that the stream rises entirely there?"

"No," I said; "I fancy it dives underground when it reaches a mountain, and comes out where we saw."