In the excitement of the moment Barney drew his pistol from his belt and snapped it at the animal.  It was well for the hermit at that moment that Barney had forgotten to prime his weapon; for, although he aimed at the jaguar’s skull, there is no doubt whatever that he would have blown out the hermit’s brains.  Before he could make a second attempt, Martin sprang towards the gun which leaned against the cliff, and, running quickly up, he placed the muzzle close to the jaguar’s ear and lodged a bullet in its brain.  All this was done in a few seconds, and the hermit regained his legs just as the animal fell dead.  Fortunately he was not hurt, having adroitly avoided the sharp claws of his enemy.

“Arrah!  Mister Hermit,” said Barney, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, “it’s yersilf that was well-nigh done for this time, an’ no mistake.  Did iver I see sich a spring! an’ ye stud the charge jist like a stone wall,—­niver moved a fut!”

“Are you not hurt?” inquired Martin, somewhat anxiously; “your face is all covered with blood.”

“Yes, boy, but it is the blood of the jaguar; thanks to you for your quick hand, I am not hurt at all.”

The hermit washed his face in the neighbouring brook, and then proceeded to skin the jaguar, the carcase being worthless.  After which they retraced their steps through the woods as quickly as possible, for the day was now far spent, and the twilight, as we have before remarked, is so short in tropical latitudes that travellers require to make sure of reaching the end of the day’s journey towards evening, unless they choose to risk losing their way, and spending the night in the forest.

They picked up the iguana in passing; and, on reaching the spot where the armadillo had burrowed, the hermit paused and kindled a small fire over the hole, by means of his flint, steel, and tinder-box.  He thus contrived to render the creature’s habitation so uncomfortable that it rushed hurriedly out; then, observing that its enemies were waiting, it doubled its head and tail together, and became the image of a rough stone.

“Poor thing,” said Martin, as the hermit killed it, “that reminds me of the ostrich of the desert, which, I’m told, when it is chased over the plains by men on horseback, and finds that it cannot escape, thrusts its head into a bush, and fancies, no doubt, that it cannot be seen, although its great body is visible a mile off!”

“Martin,” said Barney, “this arth is full o’ quare craturs intirely.”

“That’s true, Barney; and not the least ‘quare’ among them is an Irishman, a particular friend of mine.”

“Hould yer tongue, ye spalpeen, or I’ll put yer head in the wather!”

“I wish ye would, Barney, for it is terribly hot and mosquito-bitten, and you couldn’t have suggested anything more delightful.  But here we are once more at our forest home; and now for a magnificent cup of coffee and a mandioca-cake.”