CHAPTER V. 
AN INDIAN HUNTER. 
The shooting on the Parana was more than 
disappointing. There was none. The jungle 
was so thick that no game could be seen; and 
indeed the snorting of our little launch must 
have sent any game flying before us, in the same 
way that it sent the basking crocodiles along 
the bank, into the water in a flash. All that 
was left to us was to examine the spoor of wild 
animals on the sand of the few small bays, and 
to get what thrill we could out of the fact that 
deer, tapir, pig, wild cat, and ant-eaters 
abounded. At the Brazilian headquarters, 
near the mouth of the Iguazu, we sent for an 
Indian hunter. 
He arrived with his lurcher dog : a lean, small 
man, very dark, and with quick roving eyes. 
He was like a small wild animal himself. He 
told us of the long weeks he spent in the forest, 
tracking game; carrying a little yerba with him, 
and living on what he shot. He spoke of the 
tigr6 (the South American jaguar) that men 
hunted down like vermin and poisoned. 
