78 THROUGH THE BRAZILIAN WILDERNESS 



the palms, and lit the waste fields of papyrus. The black 

 monkeys howled mournfully. The birds awoke. Macaws, 

 parrots, parakeets screamed at us and chattered at us as 

 we rode by. Ibis called with wailing voices, and the plov- 

 ers shrieked as they wheeled in the air. We waded across 

 bayous and ponds, where white lilies floated on the water 

 and thronging lilac-flowers splashed the green marsh with 

 color. 



At last, on the edge of a patch of jungle, in wet ground, 

 we came on fresh jaguar tracks. Both the jaguar hounds 

 challenged the sign. They were unleashed and galloped 

 along the trail, while the other dogs noisily accompanied 

 them. The hunt led right through the marsh. Evidently 

 the jaguar had not the least distaste for water. Probably 

 it had been hunting for capybaras or tapirs, and it had 

 gone straight through ponds and long, winding, narrow 

 ditches or bayous, where it must now and then have had 

 to swim for a stroke or two. It had also wandered through 

 the island-like stretches of tree-covered land, the trees at 

 this point being mostly palms and tarumans; the taruman 

 is almost as big as a live-oak, with glossy foliage and a 

 fruit like an olive. The pace quickened, the motley pack 

 burst into yelling and howling; and then a sudden quick- 

 ening of the note showed that the game had either climbed 

 a tree or turned to bay in a thicket. The former proved 

 to be the case. The dogs had entered a patch of tall tree 

 jungle, and as we cantered up through the marsh we saw 

 the jaguar high among the forked limbs of a taruman- 

 tree. It was a beautiful picture — the spotted coat of the 

 big, lithe, formidable cat fairly shone as it snarled defiance 

 at the pack below. I did not trust the pack; the dogs 



