As they are now in the midst of amorphous darkness, it might be imagined
nothing could be done but keep their place, or go groping idly about.
Not so, however. Gaspar has no intention of letting the time pass in
such an unprofitable manner; instead, he at once resumes speech, and
along with it action.
"Now, young masters," he says, making a movement towards the place where
they had left their horses, "since we are shut up here, I don't see why
we shouldn't make ourselves as comfortable as we can under the
circumstances; and the best way to begin will be with what's usually the
winding up of a day's work--that's supper. Our bit of rough riding has
given me the appetite of a wolf, and I feel as if I could eat one
red-raw. Suppose we have another set-to at the shoulder of mutton?
What say you, _senoritos_?"
They answer in the affirmative, both being as hungry as himself.
"We sha'n't have to eat in darkness either," he proceeds. "Luckily,
I've brought with me a bit of candle--best wax at that. A costly affair
it was when whole; being one of a pair I had to pay for when my poor
mother died, to be used at her funeral, and for which the rascally
_padres_ charged me five _pesos_ a-piece--because consecrated, as they
called out. As they stood me so much, I thought I might as well save
the stumps; which I did, and have got one of them here. Starting out,
it occurred to me we might some time need it, as you see we do now; so I
slipped it into my saddle-bags."
While speaking, he has moved on to his horse, and got beside him without
much straying; for his former visit to the cavern has made him familiar
with its topography, and he could go anywhere through it without a
glimmer of light to guide him. Plunging his hand into his ample
_alparejas_, and rummaging about for a short while, he gets hold of the
bit of unburnt candle--souvenir of a melancholy ceremony, which,
however, he had long ceased to mourn over, since his mother has been
dead for many years.
He has drawn it out; removed the scrap of buckskin in which it was
wrapped; and with flint and steel is proceeding to strike a light, when
a sound reaches his ears that causes him to suspend operations, and
stand intently listening for its repetition.
Simultaneously has it been heard by the other two, as also by the three
horses; these last, on hearing it, showing their affright by a series of
snorts, while they dance about over the floor of the cavern. For it is
a sound which, heard in any part of tropical America, whether on sunlit
plain or in shady forest, strikes terror to the heart of all who hear
it, be it man, bird, or beast. No living creature in that land but
dreads the cry of the jaguar.
"_El tigre_!" exclaims Gaspar in a subdued tone, his voice half-drowned
by a second roar from the great feline, this time louder and more
prolonged.
"Where is it?" they ask one another hurriedly, and in whispers, fearing
to speak out. For loud as is the creature's voice as it reverberates
through the hollow cavity, what with the bellowing of the wind and the
trampling of their horses' hoofs on the hard rock, it is impossible to
tell whence it came, and whether the jaguar be outside the cavern or
within. About this there is a difference of opinion among them, but
only for an instant--all three agreeing, as for the third time the
terrifying note is sounded. Then they believe it to have come from
outside. But again they as quickly differ, at hearing a fourth
repetition of it; this as certainly seeming to have been uttered inside
the cavern. Once more changing their minds, when, for the fifth time,
the beast gives out its grand roar; since along with it they hear
another sound as of some heavy body hurling itself against the screen of
spread ponchos, too solid to be mistaken for a puff of wind. Beyond
doubt, it is the tiger seeking admittance to the cave!
Though but a few minutes have elapsed since its first fierce note fell
upon their ears, they have not stood idly listening. Instead, all three
have groped the way to their horses, got hold of their guns, and
returned to take stand near the entrance. Gaspar, moreover, has lit the
stump of candle, and stuck it upon a projecting point of rock; for he
knows the _tigre_, like other cats, can see in the darkness, and would
thus have the advantage of them.
Soon again it treats them to another bit of trumpeting, this time more
angrily intoned, as if demanding shelter from the storm, and no doubt as
much surprised as puzzled at the strange obstruction debarring entrance
to the cave--in all likelihood its lair.
They have stationed themselves in a line facing the screen, and with
guns cocked stand ready to fire at the beast, should it persist in its
intention to enter. But now, with the light shining upon the ponchos,
they see what appears to be its body pressing against these from the
outside, though quickly withdrawn, as if the creature recoiled from a
thing that awes while perplexing it.
"Hadn't we better fire at it through the ponchos? Some one of us may
hit it."
Cypriano makes the suggestion.
"No," dissents Gaspar, "we might all miss that way; and if we did,
'twould drive the _tigre_ mad, and then--"
He is interrupted by another cry from the jaguar; this a fierce scream,
showing the animal already maddened enough, or, at all events, madly
impatient, and determined no longer to endure exclusion from the cave.
For while still continuing that cry, it bounds up against the screen,
plucking the knives from their places, tossing off the stones, and
laying the entrance open. A gust of wind entering blows out the candle,
and all is again darkness. But not silence; for there are noises close
to where they stand, which they know must proceed from the jaguar,
though different from its former utterances, and to them quite
incomprehensible--a succession of growls, snorts, and coughs, as if the
beast were being suffocated; while at the same time a heavy body seems
to be tumbling and struggling over the floor of the cavern!
"By Saint Jago!" cries Gaspar, first to comprehend what it means, "the
brute's caught in our ponchos! He's bagged--smothered up! Fire into
him! Aim where you hear the noise. _Tira_!"
At the word, their three guns go off together; and then, to make sure,
another shot additional from the double barrelled piece of Cypriano;
Ludwig's gun being the rifle that belonged to his father, found where
the latter had fallen.
And sure work have their shots made of it. For as they stand in the
darkness listening, they hear neither growl, nor snort, nor coughing;
but, instead, only the wailing of wind and the rumbling of thunder.
"Dead as a door-nail!" pronounces Gaspar, feeling his way to where he
had stuck the bit of bees'-wax, and once more setting it alight. Then
returning towards the entrance, he sees that he has in everything
rightly conjectured. For there, enveloped in the ponchos, with its
claws stuck fast into the close-woven fabric of wool, lies the great
spotted cat--not at full stretch, but doubled up into a shapeless lump,
as it had worked itself in its efforts to get free! Though all their
shots had hit it, some of the bullets passing through its body, a
quivering throughout its frame tells that life is not yet extinct. But
it is extinguished instantly after, by Gaspar laying hold of one of the
knives, and giving _el tigre_ the _coup de grace_ by a cut across its
throat; as he does so, saying--
"That's for your impudence--intruding yourself on three hungry
travellers about sitting down to supper!"