by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
SAVED BY A SPITTING-DEVIL.
To be shut up in a room with a royal Bengal tiger, or what amounts tothe same a cave of small dimensions, is a situation which no one willcovet. Nor would it be much improved were the tyrant of the Asiaticjungles transformed into a jaguar--the despot of the American tropicalforests. For, although the latter be smaller, and less powerful thanthe former, in an encounter with man it is equally fierce and dangerous.As regards size, the male jaguar often reaches the measurement of anIndian tigress; while its strength is beyond all proportion to its bulk.Humboldt has made mention of one that dragged the carcase of a horse ithad killed across a deep, difficult ravine, and up to the top of a hill;while similar feats have been recorded by Von Tschudi, Darwin, andD'Orbigny.
Familiar with its character and capabilities, no wonder, then, that ourgaucho and his companions should feel fear, as they take in the perilsbesetting them. For there is no knowing how long the jaguar will keepits patience, or its place; and when it shifts they may "look out forsqualls." They can still see it on the ledge; for although the light isfeeble, with some dust floating about, through this its glaringeyeballs, as twin stars through a thin stratum of cloud, gleam coal-likeand clear. They can see its jaws, too, at intervals open to emit thatcry of menace, exposing its blood-red palate, and white serrature ofteeth--a sight horrifying to behold! All the while its sinewy tailoscillates from side to side, now and then striking the rock, andbreaking off bits of stalactites, that fall in sparkling fragments onthe floor. At each repetition of its growl the horses show freshaffright, and dance madly about. For the instinct of the dumb animalsseems to admonish them, they are caged with a dangerous companion--theyand it alike unable to part company. Their masters know this, andknowing it, are all the more alarmed. A fight is before them; and thereappears no chance of shunning it--a hand-to-hand fight, theirshort-bladed knives against the sharp teeth and claws of a jaguar!
For a time they stand irresolute, even Gaspar himself not knowing whatto do. Not for long, however. It would not be the gaucho to surrenderto despair. Instead, a thought seems suddenly to have occurred to him--a way of escape from their dilemma--as evinced by his behaviour, to theothers yet incomprehensible.
Parting from them, he glides off in the direction of his horse; whichhappens to be nearest, like Cypriano's cowering in a crevice of therock. Soon beside it, he is again seen to plunge his hand into the_alparejas_, and grope about, just as when searching for the stump ofcandle.
And now he draws forth something very similar--a packet with a skincovering, tied with a bit of string. Returning to them, and removingthe wrapper, he exposes to view a half-dozen little rolls, in shapesomewhat like regalia cigars, sharp-pointed at one end, and barbed asarrows.
At a glance, both boys see what they are. They have not been brought upin a country where bull-fighting, as in all Spanish America, is theprincipal pastime, without having become acquainted with most mattersrelating 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 SanRosario, knows how to manufacture all the implements pertaining to the_funcion de toros_, and has usually kept a stock of _torterillas_ onhand, chiefly for the amusement of the Tovas youths, who were accustomedto visit the _estancia_.
Often, while dwelling at Assuncion, had he witnessed the wonder anddelight with which the savages who came there regarded all sorts offireworks; and it had occurred to him that, in the event of theirencountering strange Indians, some "spitting-devils" might prove ofservice. So, at starting out on their present expedition, just as withthe bit of wax candle, he had tossed a packet of them into hissaddle-bags.
He does not give this explanation till afterwards. Now there is no timefor talking; he must act, and instantly. But how he intends acting, orwhat he means to do with the _torterillas_, neither of his youthfulcomrades can tell or guess.
They are not kept long in ignorance. Snatching the candle fromCypriano, 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 ofthe guns have cowed it to keeping its place. Whether or no, it has keptit without change of attitude or position; though at intervals givingutterance to long low growls, with an occasional bark between.
Advancing cautiously, and in silence, the gaucho gets within six pacesof 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 endinto 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 thejaguar'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 powdercatches fire, and fizzing up, envelopes it in a shower of sparks. Not asecond longer stays it on the ledge, but bounding off makes for thecave's mouth, as if Satan himself had taken hold of its tail. So suddenand unexpected is its retreat, that Ludwig and Cypriano, to get out ofthe way, go tumbling over the stones; while Gaspar comes nigh doing thesame; in the scramble dropping the candle, and of course extinguishingit. But the light goes out only with the jaguar itself; the brutebounding on with the sparks like the tail of a comet streaming behind,illumining the whole cavern, and causing the stalactites to glitter andsparkle, as if its roof were frosted with real diamonds!
In an instant after, all is darkness; simultaneously with the lightgoing out, a sound reaching their ears, as of some solid body, fallingheavily upon water--which they know to be the tiger plunging into thestream. 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 theking 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 coastclear, Gaspar gropes about for the candle, and finding, once more lightsit. Then in his usual fashion, winding up with some quaint remark, hesays:--
"No more caterwauling to-night, I fancy, unless the kittens be abouttoo. 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 beingagain baulked of our _mate_ and mutton."