“Where’s Harvey?”

Hope-Jones, aroused by Ferguson, rose to an upright position and looked around. The flap of the shelter-tent had been thrown back, and the gray light of early morning was stealing in.

“Not here? Perhaps he has gone to the brook.”

“Yes; probably for a bath. I guess I’ll follow him.”

They lazily drew on their knickerbockers, laced their shoes, and went outside, yawning as they stepped on the grass, for the sleep was still in their eyes. The next instant their attitude changed—from heavy with drowsiness every sense became alert, every muscle contracted and their nerves throbbed, their cheeks from red turned ashen pale. For Ferguson had clutched Hope-Jones’s arm and had whispered, “Look!”

A hundred yards from where they stood lay Harvey, sound asleep, his head resting in the fork of a fallen tree and his face upturned. Two feet above this upturned face—a handsome, manly face—something was waving to and fro like a naked branch throbbed by the wind; only this something moved with a more undulating motion. It was a snake. The body was coiled around the limb of the tree that rose from the fork, and the flat head and neck waved at right angles.

“Sh! It may strike if alarmed!”

Both men sank to their knees.

“What’s it waiting for?” whispered Hope-Jones.

“I don’t know.”

“What can we do? Shall I risk a shot?”

“No. Your gun would scatter and perhaps hit Harvey. We must try the rifle.”

“You do it, then. I never could hit that target.”

“I’ll try,” said Ferguson, clenching his teeth; and he crawled quickly into the tent, and, returning with the weapon, threw himself flat on the grass in the position he had taken the evening before while aiming at the deer.

The light had grown, so that twigs on trees stood out plainly. They could see that the snake was of a brown-green, the head very flat, and in and out between the jaws moved a thin tongue, vibrating as does a tightly stretched string that has been pulled with the fingers.

“Why don’t you fire?” whispered Hope-Jones, who had thrown himself down beside Ferguson.

“Wait. I can’t hit that. No one could.”

The day was growing fast. Harvey slept without moving, and above his face, no nearer and no farther away, moved the flat head with pendulum-like regularity.

All at once, a ray of light glanced from the rising sun through the trees and fell on the face of the sleeping boy—a line of golden light, reaching from forehead to chin. Harvey moved. That instant, the flat head ceased swaying, the portion of the body free from the tree arched itself like the neck of a swan and the snake was immovable, poised to strike. But before the fangs could be plunged into the victim, a rifle rang out, and the snake fell forward, writhing, upon the neck and shoulders of the boy, and he, at a bound, freed himself from the blankets and started for the woods on a run, yelling: “I’m shot! I’m shot!”

Hope-Jones and Ferguson followed and caught up with him at the edge of the brook. Beads of perspiration were standing out on his forehead, and his face was pale.

“Where are you hurt, Harvey?” asked Ferguson, anxiously.

He looked at them in amazement, for as a fact he had just awakened. The yell and the exclamation were only part of a nightmare, which had been caused by the discharge of the firearm.

Meanwhile Hope-Jones was feeling of him carefully, his arms, his body, and examining his head and neck.

“He’s as sound as a dollar,” he finally said.

“Of course I am,” Harvey replied rather sheepishly. “What’s all the row about, anyway?”

“Come, we’ll show you,” and the young men led him back to the tree and pointed to the dead snake.

Harvey did not understand even then what the scene meant. He saw his blankets lying to one side, where he had tossed them, and he saw the reptile in the place where he had slept. Then Hope-Jones related what had happened, and the lad turned pale again when the Englishman ended by saying:—

“Had not Ferguson’s aim been true you would be a dead boy, because I can recognize this snake as of a poisonous species, although I do not know the name.”

He turned the broad head over, and it was seen that the rifle bullet had entered the mouth and shattered the upper fang.

Harvey was silent for several minutes while Ferguson stooped over and measured the reptile, announcing that it was seven feet two inches long; then the boy said:—

“I can never, never find words to thank you.”

“Don’t mention that, Harvey,” was the reply, “but remember and keep with us at night. We’re in a strange land now, and there’s no telling what we may meet.”

“I suppose we have all been careless,” said Hope-Jones. “Back in the sierra there was no animal life, except the llama and a few goats; we are in the MontaÑa now and it’s different. However, let’s change the subject and have breakfast.”

The fire was lighted, another venison steak was cooked, and with it they ate the last of the corn bread. After breakfast Ferguson set to work on the deer, cutting the flesh into strips, and while he was doing this Hope-Jones and Harvey, following his direction, built a little smoke-house with three boughs and started a slow fire within. Later the strips of flesh were hung on pieces of twine that had been stretched across the top, and the place was closed, except for a small opening, through which the fire could be replenished during the day. After this the three went to the brook side and washed such clothing as was necessary, which was hung on bushes to dry.

The noonday meal consisted of fried eggs and cold venison; then, after tending the fire in the smoke-house once more, the three lay down for a siesta. The afternoon was quite warm, the drone of insects could be heard, and they had a refreshing sleep for two hours.

But the sun was not to set without further adventure, which, like that of the morning, brought in its train a lesson to the three who were unaccustomed to the wilds of the Peruvian interior. Harvey, who was the first to awaken, believed that he might find some wild fruit in a clump of trees which grew about a quarter of a mile to the east, and so he left the camp at three o’clock and soon crossed the open space. He found himself in a little grove, the size of that in which the tent was pitched. But the trees, which had appeared different at a distance, were the same, and, disappointed, he was about to return, when his attention was attracted by a purring sound, like that made by kittens when their backs are stroked; and looking down he saw, almost beneath his feet, three little animals that were at play, catching each other with their paws by the tails and ears, and rolling over and over. They were not much taller than kittens, but were more plump, and their bodies were broader. The hair was a brownish yellow, spotted with brown of a deeper tint, and their little tails were ringed with the same color.

The boy watched them a few minutes, then thinking what a surprise he could give Hope-Jones and Ferguson, he lifted one in his arms. It was quite heavy and gave forth a peculiar whine when taken from its companions. Harvey held it close and started back to the camp, walking briskly.

He had gone about a hundred yards when there came from behind him a hideous howl that made his heart jump into his throat and his hair stand on end, while chill after chill passed down his spinal column. Glancing over his shoulder he saw an animal bounding after him, mouth wide open and foam dropping from yellow fangs. It was the size of a lion. Giving a scream, the boy started toward camp at a speed he had never equalled. For a few seconds he was so dizzy from fright that he seemed to be floating in air. Every muscle was stretched to its utmost, and he bent far forward, calling at the top of his voice, in the hope that his companions might hear.

Another awful howl sounded, this time nearer, and he could hear the footfalls of the animal close behind; the next second he could hear it panting, and then, just as he felt that the next breath would be his last, reason came to him, and he dropped the little animal which, without thinking, he had held tight in his arms.

The instant he did so the footfalls ceased and the panting grew less distinct. He cast a swift glance over his shoulder and saw that the animal had stopped beside her cub and was walking round and round the little yellow creature and licking it. The sight gave him hope, and he ran on toward the camp, ran as he had not even when that terrible breathing was so close, for then fear had partly benumbed him and at times he had staggered.

He was halfway between the groves when the animal’s cry sounded again and acted on him like the spur on a horse. He glanced back. The creature had left her cub.

“Perhaps she thinks I have another one of her pups,” was the thought that flashed through Harvey’s mind, and the inspiration came to dash his hat to the ground, which he did, and a few seconds later he looked back over his shoulder once more. Yes, the animal had stopped, but only for an instant, to sniff the piece of woollen, and then had bounded forward.

The boy plainly saw the tent ahead, but he could not make out the figure of a person near the canvas. Where were Hope-Jones and Ferguson? Could he reach the grove? But of what use to do so, unless they were there to aid him? His heart beat wildly; perspiration flooded his face and stood out in cold beads; he felt cold all over, although he was running at a speed that should have given him fever heat, and the day was very warm.

At that instant a man appeared near the tent, and Harvey gave a yell such as he had never uttered. The man stood out plainly in the afternoon light, and Harvey saw him turn. Simultaneously he heard the footfalls of the animal and the hoarse panting. The grove was near, the tent was near, the man was near, and he was immediately joined by another. They were waving to him. What could they mean?

It was a signal, but he did not understand. The heavy breathing came nearer and nearer. The men were running toward him, throwing their hands out to the left. All at once he understood, and he darted to one side. The second after he did so the crash of a rifle rang out, then the deeper sound of a shot-gun.

When Harvey looked up again Hope-Jones was pouring water on his head and Ferguson was saying:—

“It’s a puma and of the largest size!”

“Well, young man, have you had enough adventures for one day?” asked the Englishman, when the boy sat upright.

“I guess I have,” he replied in a somewhat dazed voice.

“You tackled quite a contract over there,” said Ferguson. “How did it happen?”

Harvey told them, stopping now and then during the narrative, for he was not yet wholly over his fear, nor had he quite recovered his breath.

“I guess you will keep close to us in the daytime as well as at night,” said Ferguson, when he had finished.

“Yes, I think I shall,” the lad said somewhat dismally. “What was it you said chased me?”

“A puma of the largest species. Do you wish to see it?” and Ferguson led the way a few steps to the right where the carcass of the animal lay in the long grass.

Its legs were drawn up close to the body, proof that it had died in a convulsion, and Harvey shuddered as he looked at the long, sharp claws that protruded from soft, spongelike feet. These were the feet he had heard striking the ground in pursuit. The puma somewhat resembled a leopard, and measured forty-five inches from the nose to the root of the tail, and the tail was as long as the body. The head was rather small, the ears large and rounded. The skin was a tawny, yellowish brown, and the lower part of the body a dirty white.

“Ugh!” exclaimed Harvey, shuddering.

They walked back to camp. After supper Ferguson said:—

“I move we adopt a couple of rules, to apply for the remainder of the journey.”

“What are they?” asked Hope-Jones.

“First, that we keep within hailing distance of one another.

“Second, that one of us always has a gun in hand.”

“Agreed,” said the Englishman, and Harvey nodded his head in approval.