the vicugna by the cord of the bolas, the other carrying a kid under each arm. As their mother was still nourishing them, it was probable that the youngsters could be brought up without difficulty. They might become a herd that would become very useful to the colony. Donagan doubtless regretted the splendid shot he had missed; but when the game had to be taken alive, he had to admit that the bolas was better than the gun.
The boys dined or rather supped in high spirits. The vicugna, tied to a tree, did not refuse to feed, while the kids gambolled round her.
The night, however, was not so quiet as the one spent in Sandy Desert. This part of the forest was visited by animals more formidable than jackals, and their cries were recognizable as being a combination of howling and barking at the same time. About three o'clock in the morning, there was an alarm due to the growling close by.
Donagan, on guard near the fire with his gun in hand, did not think it worth while to wake his comrades, but the growling became so violent as of itself to wake them.
"What is the matter?" asked Wilcox.
"There are some wild beasts prowling round," said Donagan.
"Probably jaguars or cougars!" said Gordon.
"One is as bad as the other."
"Not quite, Donagan, the cougar is not so dangerous as the jaguar; but in a pack they are dangerous enough."
"We are ready for them," said Donagan. And he put himself on the defensive, while his comrades got out their revolvers.
"Don't shoot until you can't miss," said Gordon, "I think the fire will keep them off."
"They are close by," said Cross.
And the pack was near enough to judge by the fury of Fan, whom Gordon had some difficulty in holding back. But it was impossible to distinguish any form in the deep darkness of the forest.
