Through Forest and Stream Part 13

I ought to have behaved differently, but I was as much taken by surprise as Pete, and I, too, stood staring instead of reloading my gun, while it never once occurred to the lad that he had one already charged in his hand.

Suddenly, to my astonishment, he s.n.a.t.c.hed off his straw hat.

"Shoo!" he cried, and sent it skimming through the air at the puma.

The effect was all he desired, for the beautiful animal sprang round and bounded away towards the nearest patch of forest, Pete after him till he reached his hat, which he picked up in triumph and stuck on his head again, grinning as he returned.

"That's the way to scare that sort, Master Nat," he cried. And he reached me again just as I stooped to pick up the fallen bird.

"c.o.c.k of the Rocks, Pete," I cried triumphantly, too much excited to think about the puma.

"Is he, sir?" said Pete. "Well, he ran away like a hen."

"No, no! I mean this bird. Isn't it a beauty?"

"He just is, sir. Lives on oranges, I s'pose, to make him that colour."

"I don't know what it lived on," I said as I regularly gloated over the lovely bird with its orange plumage and soft wheel-like crest of feathers from beak to nape. "This must go in your net, Pete; but you must carry it very carefully."

"I will, Master Nat. Going back now?"

"Back? No," I cried. "We must follow up that other one. I saw which way it flew. Uncle will be in ecstasies at our having found a place where they come."

"Will he, sir? Thought it was golden-green birds with long tails.

Quizzals. That one's got hardly any tail at all."

"He wants these too," I said, closing the breech of my gun. "Come along."

"But how about that there big cat, sir? He's gone down that way."

"We must fire at it if it comes near again, or you must throw your hat,"

I said, laughing.

"All right, sir, you know. Only if he or she do turn savage, it might be awkward."

"I don't think they're dangerous animals, Pete," I said; "and we must have that other bird, and we may put up more. Here, I'll go first."

"Nay, play fair, Master Nat," said Pete; "let's go side by side."

"Yes, but a little way apart. Open out about thirty feet, and then let's go forward slowly. I think we shall find it among those trees yonder."

"The big cat, sir?" said Pete.

"No, no!" I cried; "the other bird, the c.o.c.k of the rocks. Now then, forward."

A little flock of brightly-coloured finches flew up before we had gone a hundred yards, but I was so excited by the prospect of getting my prize's mate that these seemed of no account, and we went on, my intention being to fire at the c.o.c.k of the rocks, and nothing else, unless the golden plumage of a quetzal flashed into sight.

In another five minutes we had forgotten all about the puma, for we were leaving the trees where it had disappeared away to our left, and we went on and on, starting birds again and again, till we had pa.s.sed over a quarter of a mile and were pushing on amongst open clumps of bushes with patches of woodland here and there.

Pete was abreast of me with the other gun, and I was sweeping the ground before me in search of the orange plumage of the bird I sought, which might spring up at any time, when I had to pa.s.s round a pile of rugged stones half covered with herbage.

"Sort of place for snakes to bask," I said to myself, as I gave it a little wider berth, when all at once, to my surprise, up rose with a whirr not the bird I sought, but a little flock of seven or eight, and as I raised my gun to fire at the group of whizzing orange--_Thud_!

Something heavy had bounded from the pile of stone I had pa.s.sed, to alight full upon my shoulders.

_Bang, bang_! went both barrels of my gun, and the next moment I was down, spread-eagle fashion, on my face, conscious of the fact that what was probably the puma's mate had bounded right upon me as I stooped forward to fire, and as I heard Pete utter a yell of horror, the beast's muzzle was pressed down on the back of my neck, and its hot breath stirred the roots of my hair.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A LUCKY ESCAPE.

For a few minutes, or a few moments, I cannot tell which, I lay there half stunned.

Then I began to think that I should be torn to pieces and devoured, and my next vivid thought took the form of a question--Will it hurt much?

This set me wondering whether I was already badly injured, and as I had read that people who are seriously hurt do not feel pain at the time, I took it for granted that I was in a very sad state. But all the same I did not feel torn by the creature's claws, nor yet as if its teeth had been driven into the back of my neck, though I supposed that they had been. What I did feel was that the puma was heavy, soft, and very hot.

"Then I can't be hurt," I reasoned with myself at last, "or I should feel the pain now," and with this I began to think it was time to do something; but I hesitated about beginning, for I could make no use of my discharged gun.

There was my knife, though, if I could get it out from its sheath in my belt, and feeling that, if it were to come to a struggle, my empty hands would be no match for the puma's teeth and claws, I began to steal my fingers towards my belt.

I stopped directly, though, for at the first movement there was a deep shuddering growl at the nape of my neck, and it seemed to run down my spine and out at the tips of my fingers and toes. It was just as if the puma were saying--

"You just lie still, or I'll bite."

That must have been the meaning, for I lay quite still with the great heat drops tickling my face and running in the roots of my hair, while the puma crouched upon my back so that I could feel its shape exactly.

"What can I do?" I said to myself, and then I remembered the old story about the traveller and the bear--how he shammed death, and the bear left him. That was what I felt that I must do, and I lay perfectly still in the hope that the puma would leave me, though it seemed quite to approve of its couch, and lay close, breathing steadily, so that I felt the rise and fall of its breast against my back.

Just when I was beginning to feel faint with the heat and excitement, a thrill ran through me, for from somewhere close at hand, but invisible to me in the position I occupied, I heard Pete's voice--

"Oh, Master Nat, Master Nat! Are you killed?"

"No," I cried; but I said no more, for there was a savage growl, a snap, and I felt myself seized at the back of the neck and shaken, but the puma had only seized the collar of my loose jacket, so that I was unhurt still.

"What shall I do, Master Nat?" cried Pete.

The puma loosed its hold of the collar of my jacket, and I felt it raise its head as if looking in the direction of Pete, and it growled fiercely again.

"Shoot, Pete, shoot!" I cried, feeling that at all risks I must speak.

The puma's teeth gripped my collar again, and I could fell its claws glide out of their sheaths like a cat's and press upon my shoulders, giving me a warning of what the beast could do.

But its attention was taken off directly by Pete's voice, and it raised its head again and growled at him as if daring him to approach and rob it of its prey.

For Pete cried in a despairing tone--