HUNTING THE JAGUAR 77 



cellent pasturage for the few cattle that have 

 been turned out for the experiment of stock- 

 raising. There was one, big Jack Haley, who 

 had started a cattle ranch out in this very savan- 

 nah country, and word had come to me that a 

 jaguar was playing havoc with his stock. With 

 a letter of introduction to big Jack, and rifle in 

 hand, I rolled out of Georgetown on the only 

 railroad in the colony, headed due east for Ber- 

 bice, at the mouth of the Berbice River, and the 

 terminus of the road. Just where I was going 

 and how I was going to find this Haley fellow, 

 my ideas were very vague. But, at any rate, I 

 was perfectly content with the mere thought 

 that I was on my way. 



The iron horse commenced to eat up the miles, 

 and then gradually the jungle gave place to these 

 endless lowlands of grass, and occasionally there 

 were what looked like islands of trees in the midst 

 of a quivering sea. A feeling of great joy came 

 over me as I looked far away into space. From 

 being in the jungle so long, I had felt penned 

 up, and now that feeling had vanished. Then 

 another little thrill came over me as the landscape 

 brought back pleasant memories of the old days 

 on the cattle range. 



At the end of the route inquiries for Jack 



