“I think not,” replied Martin, in a low tone of voice.  “I have read in my school geography that there are tigers of some sort,—­jaguars, or ounces, I think they are called,—­but there are no—­”

Martin’s speech was cut short by a terrific roar, which rang through the woods, and the next instant a magnificent jaguar, or South American tiger, bounded on to the track a few yards in advance, and, wheeling round, glared fiercely at the travellers.  It seemed, in the uncertain light, as if his eyes were two balls of living fire.  Though not so large as the royal Bengal tiger of India, this animal was nevertheless of immense size, and had a very ferocious aspect.  His roar was so sudden and awful, and his appearance so unexpected, that the blood was sent thrilling back into the hearts of the travellers, who stood rooted to the spot, absolutely unable to move.  This was the first large animal of the cat kind that either of them had seen in all the terrible majesty of its wild condition; and, for the first time, Martin and his friend felt that awful sensation of dread that will assail even the bravest heart when a new species of imminent danger is suddenly presented.  It is said that no animal can withstand the steady gaze of a human eye; and many travellers in wild countries have proved this to be a fact.  On the present occasion our adventurers stared long and steadily at the wild creature before them, from a mingled feeling of surprise and horror.  In a few seconds the jaguar showed signs of being disconcerted.  It turned its head from side to side slightly, and dropped its eyes, as if to avoid their gaze.  Then turning slowly and stealthily round, it sprang with a magnificent bound into the jungle, and disappeared.

Both Martin and Barney heaved a deep sigh of relief.

“What a mercy it did not attack us!” said the former, wiping the cold perspiration from his forehead.  “We should have had no chance against such a terrible beast with a cutlass, I fear.”

“True, boy, true,” replied his friend, gravely; “it would have been little better than a penknife in the ribs o’ sich a cratur.  I niver thought that it was in the power o’ man or baste to put me in sich a fright; but the longer we live we learn, boy.”

Barney’s disposition to make light of everything was thoroughly subdued by this incident, and he felt none of his usual inclination to regard all that he saw in the Brazilian forests with a comical eye.  The danger they had escaped was too real and terrible, and their almost unarmed condition too serious, to be lightly esteemed.  For the next hour or two he continued to walk by Martin’s side either in total silence, or in earnest, grave conversation; but by degrees these feelings wore off, and his buoyant spirits gradually returned.