106 THROUGH THE BRAZILIAN WILDERNESS 



hounds in full cry after them. It was twenty minutes 

 later before we again heard the pack baying. With much 

 difficulty, and by the incessant swinging of the machetes, 

 we opened a trail through the network of vines and branches. 

 This time there was only one peccary, the boar. He was 

 at bay in a half-hollow stump. The dogs were about his 

 head, raving with excitement, and it was not possible to 

 use the rifle; so I borrowed the spear of Dom Joao the 

 younger, and killed the fierce little boar therewith. 



This was an animal akin to our collared peccary, 

 smaller and less fierce than its white-jawed kinsfolk. It is 

 a valiant and truculent little beast, nevertheless, and if 

 given the chance will bite a piece the size of a teacup out 

 of either man or dog. It is found singly or in small par- 

 ties, feeds on roots, fruits, grass, and delights to make its 

 home in hollow logs. If taken young it makes an affec- 

 tionate and entertaining pet. When the two were in the 

 hollow log we heard them utter a kind of moaning, or 

 menacing, grunt, long drawn. 



An hour or two afterward we unexpectedly struck the 

 fresh tracks of two jaguars and at once loosed the dogs, 

 who tore off yelling, on the line of the scent. Unfortu- 

 nately, just at this moment the clouds burst and a deluge 

 of rain drove in our faces. So heavy was the downpour 

 that the dogs lost the trail and we lost the dogs. We 

 found them again only owing to one of our caboclos; an 

 Indian with a queer Mongolian face, and no brain at all 

 that I could discover, apart from his special dealings with 

 wild creatures, cattle, and horses. He rode in a huddle of 

 rags; but nothing escaped his eyes, and he rode anything 

 anywhere. The downpour continued so heavily that we 



