A Jaguar-Hunt on the Taquary 8i 



baras 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 be- 

 ing 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 quickening 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 taru- 

 man 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 were not stanch, and if the jaguar came down 

 and started I feared we might lose it. So I fired at once, 

 from a distance of seventy yards. I was using my favor- 

 ite rifle, the little Springfield with which I have killed 

 most kinds of African game, from the lion and elephant 

 down ; the bullets were the sharp, pointed kind, with the 

 end of naked lead. At the shot the jaguar fell like a sack 

 of sand through the branches, and although it staggered 

 to its feet it went but a score of yards before it sank 

 down, and when I came up it was dead under the palms, 

 with three or four of the bolder dogs riving at it. 



The jaguar is the king of South American game, 

 ranking on an equality with the noblest beasts of the 

 chase of North America, and behind only the huge and 



