“After marching for a couple of hours, we again heard the dogs.  Each of us pressed forward, elated at the thought of terminating the career of the puma; some of the dogs were heard whining, although the greater part barked vehemently.  We felt assured that the animal was treed, and that he would rest for some time to recover from his fatigue.  As we came up to the dogs we discovered the furious animal lying across a large branch close to the trunk of a cotton-wood tree.  His broad breast lay towards us, his eyes were at one time bent on us, and again on the dogs, beneath, and around him; one of his fore-legs hung down loosely by his side, and he lay crouched with his ears lowered close to his head, as if he thought he might remain undiscovered.  Three balls were fired at him at a given signal, on which he sprung a few feet from the branch, and tumbled headlong to the ground.  Attacked on all sides by the enraged curs, the infuriated animal fought with desperate valour; but the squatter advancing in front of the party, and almost in the midst of the dogs, shot him immediately behind and beneath the left shoulder.  He writhed for a moment in agony, and in another lay dead.”

“It must be very exciting employment, hunting the puma, Uncle Thomas.”

“And not a little dangerous too, Boys, for you hear how fiercely he maintains his ground.  With all their fierceness, however, the fear of man is over even this relentless race of animals.  Captain Head, who has written an amusing book called ’Rough Notes of Rapid Rides across the Pampas,’ thus speaks on this subject: 

“The fear which all wild animals in America have of man is very singularly exhibited in the Pampas.  I often rode towards the ostriches and zamas, crouching under the opposite side of my horse’s neck; but I always found that, although they would allow my loose horse to approach them, they, even when young, ran from me, though little of my figure was visible; and when I saw them all enjoying themselves in such full liberty, it was at first not pleasing to observe that one’s appearance was every where a signal to them that they should fly from their enemy.  Yet it is by this fear ’that man hath dominion over the beasts of the field,’ and there is no animal in South America that does not acknowledge this instinctive feeling.  As a singular proof of the above, and of the difference between the wild beasts of America and of the old world, I will venture to relate a circumstance which a man sincerely assured me had happened to him in South America.

“He was trying to shoot some wild ducks, and, in order to approach them unperceived, he put the corner of his poncho (which is a sort of long narrow blanket) over his head, and crawling along the ground upon his hand and knees, the poncho not only covered his body, but trailed along the ground behind him.  As he was thus creeping by a large bush of reeds, he heard a loud, sudden noise, between a bark and a