BRINGING DOWN AN OCELOT
The centipede scare had been almost too much for Hockley, and he hardly
ate a mouthful of the breakfast which the others prepared.
“It’s a nasty country--I’m sorry I came here,” he told Mark. “I
expected a better time.”
“Well you are here and that’s the end of it,” was the simple answer.
“But perhaps things won’t be so bad after we get used to it.”
“I thought it would be like hunting in the mountains of Pennsylvania.
I once went out there and had a fine time, bringing down small game
and fishing for trout. But that awfully big jungle--” Hockley did not
finish, but his look of fear was more impressive than words.
However, the breakfast passed off pleasantly enough and inside of an
hour all the boys were at the river bank, baiting their hooks under the
direction of Cubara, who told them that he had once made his living as
a fisherman.
“I catch de fish in de mountains,” he said. “Sell dem to de gold
miners. Da no take time to fish, so pay big price.”
“I suppose the miners don’t care to do anything but hunt for gold,”
remarked Frank.
“Hunt, hunt, hunt, night an’ day,” was the answer. “Some go ’way up
de big mountains, stay dare many, many moons, come back, no gold, all
crazy.”
“Crazy!”
“Yes, crazy, stay alone so long, no want dat to fish for him. He crazy,
maybe he kill!” And Cubara shrugged his bony shoulders.
“That’s a cheerful outlook for Andy Hume,” murmured Mark. “I sincerely
hope he doesn’t go crazy through loneliness.”
“I have heard of such cases in our own country,” put in the professor.
“Some miners went crazy during the gold fever in California, and only
a few months ago I was reading in the newspapers of a prospector
in Alaska who had gone insane through having lost himself in the
mountains. It is no child’s play--this trying to make nature yield up
her secrets.”
Fishing lasted all of the morning, and by noon they had twenty-odd
specimens of the finny tribe in a pool of fresh water among the
rocks. Most of the catch were of the perch variety, although somewhat
different from the class usually found in our own streams.
“Haven’t run across any of those wonderful electric eels,” said
Hockley. “I thought we’d be sure to be shocked to death,” he added,
with a sniff.
“Electric eels not here,” said Cubara. “Take you to dem udder day
maybe.”
“I want to go hunting first,” put in Sam. He was longing to shoot
something big.
“We’ll go hunting this afternoon,” said the professor.
“I don’t care to go hunting,” said Hockley. “I’d rather take it easy
to-day.”
“Very well, then, you may remain in camp with Cubara, Hockley.”
The dinner was rather a hasty one, and a short while later Professor
Strong and four of the boys set out. Each was armed with a rifle or
shotgun, and each carried some food for supper, should they not return
until late.
The professor had had a long talk with the Indian regarding the game in
the vicinity, and Cubara had told him where they were likely to find
a number of peccaries, a wild animal common to many parts of Venezuela
and one much sought after by the natives for food. The peccary is not
unlike a wild hog in general appearance, and when full grown weighs
from fifty to sixty pounds. They are very fierce when attacked and have
short tusks which are as sharp as daggers.
The way was up the mountain side behind the camp, over tall rocks
and around spots where the undergrowth was absolutely impenetrable.
Overhead the sun shone down from a cloudless sky, yet under the
gigantic trees not a ray was to be found, so thick was the foliage.
As they advanced the constant screeching of green parrots reached
their ears, mingled with the distant pandemonium created by a tribe of
howling monkeys.
“What a noise they make,” cried Darry. “I never heard such a racket in
my life.”
“Those monkeys are the genuine ring-tail howling monkeys,” laughed the
professor. “They are the pest of a hunter’s camp. When once they make
up their mind to serenade you at night nothing short of a hurricane can
stop them. Their howl, heard in the darkness, is the most mournful
sound on earth, ten times worse than that of a dog baying at the moon.”
“Are they dangerous?” asked Sam.
“Not generally speaking, although you want to be careful of what you do
to them. A shot from a gun will sometimes scatter them for an hour or
so. But if you pick up a stone and hurl it at them, they will surely
pick up other stones to hurl at you in return.”
In two hours they had covered a distance of several miles. Nothing had
been seen of peccaries, and somewhat disheartened they came to a halt
near the bank of a mountain torrent which, at that point, formed a pool
several rods in extent.
“Hush!” said the professor suddenly. “Get down behind the bushes. There
is a fine shot for all of us.”
They dropped down, and then gazed in the direction he pointed out.
Sitting on some tall bushes overhanging the opposite side of the pool
were a number of birds almost as large as wild turkeys. They were
bluish in color, with a greenish tinge under the throat fading to
white. On the head of each was a crest of yellow which looked like
gold.
“What beauties!” murmured Sam.
“Ready, all of you,” came from the professor. “Take aim. Fire!”
The word was not yet out of his mouth when the birds became alarmed
and started to rise. But at the volley two dropped into the water dead
while two others fluttered helplessly among the trees. The professor
and Mark ran after the latter and after some trouble put them to death
and brought them in. In the meantime those in the pool were also
secured.
“These birds are crested curassows, or hoccos,” said the professor.
“Some of them are the color of those we have shot but the majority are
black. They are very numerous in Venezuela, Guiana, and Brazil, and a
great many people keep them as we do tame turkeys, and the meat is very
much the same.”
“Hurrah for the turkey meat!” exclaimed Frank. “That will be a change
from our fish diet.”
With the curassows slung over their backs they proceeded on their way,
around the pool and up the mountain torrent, to where there was a small
stretch of table-land. From this point they could obtain a clear view
of the surrounding country for many miles.
“There is the Orinoco,” said Mark, pointing to the stream as it
glistened in the sunlight. “But the hill is between us and our camp.”
On the table-land they brought down a score of birds, including a
trogon, a beautiful creature of black, green and gold, with long,
sweeping tail; a pair of birds of the sparrow-hawk variety; and several
humming-birds.
“These humming-birds are called the ruby and topaz,” said Professor
Strong. “They are hunted down by the thousands each year and are used
in the decoration, principally, of ladies’ hats.”
“They are certainly pretty,” said Sam. “But what a shame to slaughter
them in such a wholesale fashion.”
“All sorts of tropical birds are slaughtered merely for the purposes
of the milliner,” went on the professor. “It is certainly a shame, but
so long as the ladies demand feathers on their hats the slaughter will
probably continue.”
Leaving the table-land they plunged again into the forest. The
professor had found tracks which he felt certain belonged to some wild
animals, and as they advanced each held his gun ready for use should
the occasion require.
The occasion was not long in coming. Directly in front of them was a
fallen tree, a veritable monarch of the forest, all of nine feet in
diameter and with branches spreading in all directions. As they were
making their way around the roots of this tree they heard a low snarl
of rage and saw a wild beast not unlike a huge cat leap from the roots
with another wild beast in its mouth.
Crack! went the professor’s rifle and the bullet hit the beast in the
forepaw. At once it dropped its prey--an armadillo--and faced around
with another snarl of rage more fierce than ever.
“He’s coming for us!” yelled Mark, and fired his own gun. But his aim
was not true and the bullet merely grazed the beast’s tail.
By this time the ocelot--for such the animal proved to be--was up on
the tree trunk, glaring directly down upon them. He was closer to Frank
than to anyone else, and it looked as if he would leap upon the youth
without further delay.
It must be confessed that Frank was badly frightened. But he did not
lose his total presence of mind, and almost mechanically he lifted the
shotgun he carried and blazed away. At the same time Sam and Darry
fired, and between the three the ocelot was mortally wounded and
rolled to the ground, growling and snarling in a fashion fearful to
contemplate. Then the professor rushed in and with a shot at short
range finished the beast.
“Say, but that was a close call all around,” came from Mark, when the
excitement was over.
“That’s what it was,” returned Frank, breathing heavily. “I don’t want
to get in such close quarters again. I thought sure he was going to nab
me.”
The professor was much vexed that his first shot had not killed the
ocelot. “I must be getting rusty in my shooting,” he said.
The armadillo was limping away on three legs, for the ocelot had bitten
it severely through the hind quarters. But before it could get very
far, Darry and Sam went after it and brought it low. Then they dragged
it back by its tail and laid it beside the larger beast.
The ocelot was a beautiful specimen, measuring four feet from nose to
tip of tail. It was of a greyish fawn color, with stripes and patches
of black. The eyes were yellowish brown, full and round. The boys could
well imagine how they might glitter in the darkness of night.
“This creature belongs to the leopard family,” said the professor,
while reloading his rifle. “They are very powerful, and frequently
attack animals twice their size. There are a number of varieties, and
some go by the common name of tiger cats. The skins are very valuable
for rugs and other purposes.”
“What about the meat?” questioned Darry.
“The natives eat the meat of almost every wild beast. Personally I have
never tried ocelot steaks, although I have been told they are fairly
good eating.”