head and stretched itself out, and Belt made ready to receive its spring, but the jaguar altered its mind at the last, and bounded off into the forest. It was much the best thing for everybody; but Belt never ceased being sorry that he had not fired, although, if he had, he would most likely never have come home to tell the tale.
In this part of the world, too, jaguars have a peculiar way of killing their prey, which certainly spares the victim any pangs of terror. A jaguar will sit quietly on a tree till a herd of wild pigs come by, and then, choosing out a nice fat one, drops straight on its back as it passes underneath, dislocates its neck with a jerk of its paw, and is up the tree again before the rest of the herd know what has happened. When they have disappeared, leaving their dead comrade behind them, the jaguar jumps down and eats him for dinner.
