42 The Naturalist in La Plata. 



and shrug their shoulders, when told of a comrade's 

 death ; " so many beautiful horses die ! " I asked 

 him if he had ever killed a puma, and he replied 

 that he had killed only one and had sworn never to 

 kill another. He said that while out one day with 

 another gaucho looking for cattle a puma was 

 found. It sat up with its back against a stone, and 

 did not move even when his companion threw the 

 noose of his lasso over its neck. My informant 

 then dismounted, and, drawing his knife, advanced 

 to kill it : still the puma made no attempt to free 

 itself from the lasso, but it seemed to know, he 

 said, what was coming, for it began to tremble, the 

 tears ran from its eyes, and it whined in the most 

 pitiful manner. He killed it as it sat there unre- 

 sisting before him, but after accomplishing the 

 deed felt that he had committed a murder. It was 

 the only thing he had ever done in his life, he 

 added, which filled him with remorse when he 

 remembered it. This I thought a rather startling 

 declaration, as I knew that he had killed several 

 individuals of his own species in duels, fought 

 with knives, in the fashion of the gauchos. 



All who have killed or witnessed the killing of 

 the puma — and I have questioned scores of hunters 

 on this point — agree that it resigns itself in this 

 unresisting, pathetic manner to death at the hands 

 of man. Claudio Gray, in his Natural History of 

 Gliili, says, " When attacked by man its energy and 

 daring at once forsake it, and it becomes a weak, 

 inoffensive animal, and trembling, and uttering 

 piteous moans, and shedding abundant tears, it 

 seems to implore compassion from a generous 



