“Yes, it does,” assented Harvey, “but down below I can see the head. What enormous jaws!”
“And they say that the jaws will stretch still wider, for they are fastened together by ligaments that are as elastic as rubber.”
“Yes, they will stretch so that it can swallow a young deer.”
“Perhaps that’s what it’s gorging on now.”
“Perhaps. You notice that hump below the neck? That’s as far as the prey has moved down toward the creature’s stomach.”
“No, Harvey. Why should I? The boa hasn’t harmed us, and should I only wound it, one of us might suffer, for it’s said they move with wonderful rapidity for a short distance.”
“Would it not be a good plan to hasten and climb the hill yonder?” suggested Hope-Jones. “It won’t be safe to sleep in this valley to-night, and goodness only knows what we’ll stumble over next.”
The others evidently thought so also, for they quickened their pace, and giving the boa a wide berth they pushed ahead. An hour later they were threading their way by the side of a little stream up the hillside. After walking some distance Harvey said:—
“Are you going to quiz me any more about that puma cub?”
“No, Harvey. I’ll call the account square, if you will.”
Hope-Jones laughed. “It looks very much as though I should have plenty of amusement with both——”
Ferguson and Harvey stood stock still. Hope-Jones had vanished from sight.
CHAPTER V. HUARI, AND THE STORY OF THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTESS.
“What on earth has happened?” asked Ferguson, in amazement, bending over a large hole that had suddenly yawned at their feet.
“B-r-r-r! Help me out, fellows! I’m stifling!”
They threw themselves face down at the edge of the cavity, and reached their hands below, but could not feel anything.
“Quick, Harvey! Give me the pick! Catch that, old man!” he called, pushing the iron arms into the opening. A pressure was felt and a hoarse voice replied:—
“That’ll help. I can crawl up the side that slopes.”
The next minute Hope-Jones was with them again, blowing dirt from his mouth and saying unpleasant things about the animal that had dug the hole at the path side. His ears were filled with loam, black earth had sifted back of his shirt collar, and such hair as projected beneath his cap was tangled with the soil. As for his clothing, it was streaked. Fortunately, his shot-gun, knapsack, and pick remained fastened to his back, and although dirty, he was none the loser because of his drop below the surface. Ferguson and Harvey brushed him off as best they could, then the three resumed their way up the hill.