The Ptima^ or Lion of America, 41 
or eigM years had never shown a trace of ill- 
tempeiv When approached^ he would lie down^ 
purring loudly^ and twist himself about a person’s 
legSj begging to be caressed. A string or hand- 
kerchief drawn about was sufficient to keep him in a 
happy state of excitement for an hour ; and when 
one person was tired of playing with him he was 
ready for a game with the next comer. 
I was told by a person who had spent most of 
his life on the pampas that on one occasion, when 
travelling in the neighbourhood of Cape Oorrientes, 
his horse died under him, and he was compelled to 
continue his journey on foot, burdened with his 
heavy native horse-gear. At night he made his 
bed under the shelter of a rock, on the slope of a 
stony sierra ; a bright moon was shining, and 
about nine o’clock in the evening four pumas 
appeared, two adults with their two half-grown 
young. hTot feeling the least alarm at their pre- 
sence, he did not stir | and after a while they began 
to gambol together close to him, concealing them- 
selves from each other among the rocks, just as 
kittens do, and frequently while pursuing one 
another leaping over him. He continued watching 
them until past midnight, then fell asleep, and 
did not wake until morning, when they had left 
him. 
This man was an Englishman by birth, but 
having gone very young to South America he had 
taken kindly to the semi-barbarous life of the 
gauchos, and had imbibed all their peculiar notions, 
one of -which is that human life is not worth very 
much. “ What does it matter ? ” they often say. 
