To be shut up in a room with a royal Bengal tiger, or what amounts to
the same a cave of small dimensions, is a situation which no one will
covet. Nor would it be much improved were the tyrant of the Asiatic
jungles transformed into a jaguar--the despot of the American tropical
forests. For, although the latter be smaller, and less powerful than
the former, in an encounter with man it is equally fierce and dangerous.
As regards size, the male jaguar often reaches the measurement of an
Indian tigress; while its strength is beyond all proportion to its bulk.
Humboldt has made mention of one that dragged the carcase of a horse it
had killed across a deep, difficult ravine, and up to the top of a hill;
while similar feats have been recorded by Von Tschudi, Darwin, and
D'Orbigny.
Familiar with its character and capabilities, no wonder, then, that our
gaucho and his companions should feel fear, as they take in the perils
besetting them. For there is no knowing how long the jaguar will keep
its patience, or its place; and when it shifts they may "look out for
squalls." They can still see it on the ledge; for although the light is
feeble, with some dust floating about, through this its glaring
eyeballs, as twin stars through a thin stratum of cloud, gleam coal-like
and clear. They can see its jaws, too, at intervals open to emit that
cry of menace, exposing its blood-red palate, and white serrature of
teeth--a sight horrifying to behold! All the while its sinewy tail
oscillates from side to side, now and then striking the rock, and
breaking off bits of stalactites, that fall in sparkling fragments on
the floor. At each repetition of its growl the horses show fresh
affright, and dance madly about. For the instinct of the dumb animals
seems to admonish them, they are caged with a dangerous companion--they
and it alike unable to part company. Their masters know this, and
knowing it, are all the more alarmed. A fight is before them; and there
appears no chance of shunning it--a hand-to-hand fight, their
short-bladed knives against the sharp teeth and claws of a jaguar!
For a time they stand irresolute, even Gaspar himself not knowing what
to do. Not for long, however. It would not be the gaucho to surrender
to despair. Instead, a thought seems suddenly to have occurred to him--
a way of escape from their dilemma--as evinced by his behaviour, to the
others yet incomprehensible.
Parting from them, he glides off in the direction of his horse; which
happens to be nearest, like Cypriano's cowering in a crevice of the
rock. Soon beside it, he is again seen to plunge his hand into the
_alparejas_, and grope about, just as when searching for the stump of
candle.
And now he draws forth something very similar--a packet with a skin
covering, tied with a bit of string. Returning to them, and removing
the wrapper, he exposes to view a half-dozen little rolls, in shape
somewhat like regalia cigars, sharp-pointed at one end, and barbed as
arrows.
At a glance, both boys see what they are. They have not been brought up
in a country where bull-fighting, as in all Spanish America, is the
principal pastime, without having become acquainted with most matters
relating to it. And what Gaspar has brought before their eyes are some
_torterillas_, or spitting-devils, used, along with the _banderillas_
for rousing the fury of the bull while being goaded by the _picadores_
round the arena, before the _matador_ makes his final assault. Gaspar,
who in early life has played _picador_ himself in the bull-fights of San
Rosario, knows how to manufacture all the implements pertaining to the
_funcion de toros_, and has usually kept a stock of _torterillas_ on
hand, chiefly for the amusement of the Tovas youths, who were accustomed
to visit the _estancia_.
Often, while dwelling at Assuncion, had he witnessed the wonder and
delight with which the savages who came there regarded all sorts of
fireworks; and it had occurred to him that, in the event of their
encountering strange Indians, some "spitting-devils" might prove of
service. So, at starting out on their present expedition, just as with
the bit of wax candle, he had tossed a packet of them into his
saddle-bags.
He does not give this explanation till afterwards. Now there is no time
for talking; he must act, and instantly. But how he intends acting, or
what he means to do with the _torterillas_, neither of his youthful
comrades can tell or guess.
They are not kept long in ignorance. Snatching the candle from
Cypriano, who has been carrying it--with this in one hand and a
_torterilla_ in the other--he moves off in the direction of the ledge,
where luckily the jaguar still lies astretch. Possibly the reports of
the guns have cowed it to keeping its place. Whether or no, it has kept
it without change of attitude or position; though at intervals giving
utterance to long low growls, with an occasional bark between.
Advancing cautiously, and in silence, the gaucho gets within six paces
of it. This he deems near enough for his purpose; which, by this time,
the others comprehend. It is to cast the _torterilla_ at the tiger,
and, if possible, get the barbed point to penetrate the creature's skin,
and there stick.
He makes the attempt, and succeeds. First having put the primed end
into the candle's flame, and set the fuse on fire, he launches the
"Devil" with such sure aim, that it is seen to fix itself in the
jaguar's back, just over the right shoulder.
The brute, feeling the sting, starts to its feet with an angry scream;
this instantly changing to a cry of affright, as the caked powder
catches fire, and fizzing up, envelopes it in a shower of sparks. Not a
second longer stays it on the ledge, but bounding off makes for the
cave's mouth, as if Satan himself had taken hold of its tail. So sudden
and unexpected is its retreat, that Ludwig and Cypriano, to get out of
the way, go tumbling over the stones; while Gaspar comes nigh doing the
same; in the scramble dropping the candle, and of course extinguishing
it. But the light goes out only with the jaguar itself; the brute
bounding on with the sparks like the tail of a comet streaming behind,
illumining the whole cavern, and causing the stalactites to glitter and
sparkle, as if its roof were frosted with real diamonds!
In an instant after, all is darkness; simultaneously with the light
going out, a sound reaching their ears, as of some solid body, falling
heavily upon water--which they know to be the tiger plunging into the
stream. That puts out the "spitting-devil," and no doubt along with it,
or soon after, the life of the animal it had so affrighted; for even the
king of American beasts could not escape being drowned in that foaming,
seething flood.
Soon as satisfied that the enemy is _hors de combat_, and the coast
clear, Gaspar gropes about for the candle, and finding, once more lights
it. Then in his usual fashion, winding up with some quaint remark, he
says:--
"No more caterwauling to-night, I fancy, unless the kittens be about
too. If they be, it'll give us a bit of sport, drowning them. Now,
_senoritos_! I think we may sit down to supper, without fear of being
again baulked of our _mate_ and mutton."