It was a relief at last, after many days of hard work, sailing and rowing and poling over the shallows by means of the light bamboos we cut upon the banks, to find that we were well above the dense, jungle-like forest where, save in places, landing was impossible.  Instead of creeping along between the two high walls of verdure, the river ran clear, shallow, and sparkling, among gravelly beds and rocks; while, though the growth was abundant on banks, there were plenty of open places full of sunshine and shadow, where flowers bloomed and birds far brighter in colour flitted from shrub to shrub, or darted in flocks among the trees.  Mountains rose up in the distance, and every now and then we had glorious peeps of the valleys, which near at hand were of the richest golden-green, but in the distance gradually grew from amethyst into the purest blue.

“At last!” cried Uncle Dick, for we had reached the outskirts of the land he sought ­one with the natural roads necessary; for by careful management we contrived to penetrate some distance up the various streams which came down from the mountains to join the main river, and when we had forced the boat up a little stream till it was aground, we there camped and made expeditions on foot in all directions, coming back to the boat with our treasures.

It was difficult to decide which stream to try, and one in particular whose mouth we passed several times in our journeys to and fro attracted me ­I could not tell why ­and I suggested more than once that we should go up it; but Uncle Dick shook his head.

“It is the least likely, Nat,” he said on one occasion, and when, after several expeditions, I proposed it again, because most of those we tried evidently bore to the north, while this had a southward tendency, he refused tetchily.

“Can’t you see how covered it is with water-weed and tangled growth?  It would be impossible to go up there without a small canoe.”

So I said no more, but contented myself with his choice.

For of treasures we had plenty, the wild mountain valleys swarming with beautifully plumaged birds, especially with those tiny little objects which were actually less than some of the butterflies and moths.

These humming-birds we generally shot with sand, sometimes merely with the wad of the cartridge, and even at times brought them down by the concussion caused by firing with powder only, when very near.

I was never tired of examining these little gems of the bird world, and wondering at their excessive beauty in their dazzling hues, exactly like those of the precious stones from which they are named ­ruby, emerald, topaz, sapphire, amethyst, and the like.

“It caps me,” Pete used to say, as he stared with open mouth when I carefully skinned the tiny creatures to preserve them.

Then came the day when, after a long tramp along with Pete, we found ourselves at the end of a narrow valley, with apparently no farther progress to be made.

We had started, after an early breakfast in the boat, and left my uncle there to finish off the drying of some skins ready for packing in a light case of split bamboo which the carpenter had made; and with one gun over my shoulder, a botanist’s collecting-box for choice birds, and Pete following with another gun and a net for large birds slung over his shoulder, we had tramped on for hours, thinking nothing of the heat and the sun-rays which flashed off the surface of the clear shallow stream we were following, for the air came down fresh and invigorating from the mountains.

We had been fairly successful, for I had shot four rare humming-birds; but so far we had seen no specimens of the gorgeous quetzal, and it was for these that our eyes wandered whenever we reached a patch of woodland, but only to startle macaws, parroquets, or the clumsy-looking ­but really light and active ­big-billed toucans, which made Pete shake his head.

“They’re all very well, with their orange and red throats, or their pale primrose or white, Master Nat; but I don’t see no good in birds having great bills like that.”

We had a bit of an adventure, too, that was rather startling, as we slowly climbed higher in tracking the course of the little stream towards its source in the mountain.  As we toiled on where the rocks rose like walls on either side, and the ground was stony and bare, the rugged glittering in the sunshine, Pete had got on a few yards ahead through my having paused to transfer a gorgeous golden-green beetle to our collecting-box.

I was just thinking that the absence of grass or flowers was probably due to the fact that the flooded stream must at times run all over where we were walking, the narrow valley looking quite like the bed of a river right up to the rocks on either side, when Pete shouted to me ­

“Come and look, Master Nat.  What’s this here?  Want to take it?”

I looked, and then fired the quickest shot I ever discharged in my life.  I hardly know how I managed it; but one moment I was carrying my gun over my shoulder, the next I had let the barrels fall into my left hand and fired.

Pete leapt off the ground, uttering a yell which would have made anyone who could have looked on imagine that I had shot him.  He dropped the gun he carried and turned round to face me.

“What did you do that for, Master Nat?” he cried.

“For that,” I said, pointing, and then raising my piece to my shoulder, I fired again at something writhing and twining among the loose stones.

“Thought you meant to shoot me, sir,” said Pete, picking up the gun and covering a dint he had made in the stock, as he stared down at the object that was now dying fast.  “Well, it’s of no good now.  You’ve reg’larly spoiled it.”

“Do you know what that is?” I said, with my heart beating fast.

“Course I do,” he said with a laugh.  “Snake.”

“Yes, the most deadly snake out here.  If I had waited till you touched it you would have been stung; and that generally means death.”

“My word!” said Pete, shrinking away.  “Think of it, sir!  Shouldn’t have liked that, Master Nat.  What snake is it?”

“A rattlesnake.”

“I didn’t hear him rattle.  But I was just going to lay hold of him behind his ears and pick him up.”

“And yet uncle told you to beware of poisonous snakes.”

“Ah! so he did, sir; but I wasn’t thinking about what he said then.  So that’s his rattle at the end of his tail, with a sting in it.”

“Nonsense!” I cried.  “Rattlesnakes do not sting.”

“Hark at him!” cried Pete, addressing nobody.  Then to me ­

“Why, you said just now they did.”

“I meant bite.”

“But wapses have their stings in their tails.”

“But rattlesnakes do not,” I said.  “Look here.”

I drew the hunting knife I carried, and with one chop took off the dangerous reptile’s head.  Then picking it up I opened the jaws and showed him the two keen, hollow, poisonous fangs which rose erect when the jaws gaped.

“Seem too little to do any harm, Master Nat,” said Pete, rubbing his head.  “Well, I shall know one of them gentlemen another time. ­Oh, don’t chuck it away!” he cried.  “I should like to put that head in a box and save it.”

“Too late, Pete,” I said, for I had just sent the head flying into the rippling stream; and after reloading we went on again till it seemed as if we were quite shut in.

For right in front was a towering rock, quite perpendicular above a low archway, at whose foot the stream rushed gurgling out, while the sides of the narrow ravine in which we were rose up like a wall.

“We shall have to go back, Pete, I suppose,” I said, as I looked upon either side.

“I wouldn’t, sir,” he replied; “it’s early yet.”

“But we couldn’t climb up there.”

“Oh, yes, we could, sir, if we took it a bit at a time.”

Pete was right.  I had looked at the task all at once, but by taking it a bit at a time we slowly climbed up and up till we reached to where there was a gentle slope dotted with patches of woodland, and looking more beautiful than the part we had travelled over that day.

It was just as we had drawn ourselves up on to the gentle slope which spread away evidently for miles, that Pete laid his hand upon my arm and pointed away to the left.

“Look!” he whispered; “thing like a great cat.  There she goes.”

But I did not look, for I had caught sight of a couple of birds gliding through the air as if they were finishing their flight and about to alight.

“Look there!” I panted excitedly, as I watched for the place where the birds would pitch, which proved to be out of sight, beyond a clump of trees.

“This way, Master Nat,” whispered Pete.

“No, no; this way,” I said hoarsely.  And I hurried forward, having to get over about a hundred yards before I could reach the patch behind which the birds had disappeared.

My heart beat faster with excitement as well as exertion as I checked my pace on reaching the trees and began to creep softly along in their shelter, till all at once there was a harsh scream, followed by a dozen more, as a little flock of lovely green parroquets took flight, and Pete stopped short for me to fire.

But I did not; I only kept on, wondering whether the objects of my search would take fright.

They did the next moment, and I fired at what seemed like a couple of whirring patches of orange, one of which to my great joy fell, while the other went right away in a straight line, showing that it had not been touched.

“That’s got him!” cried Pete excitedly.  And he ran forward to pick up the bird, while I began to reload, but stopped in astonishment, for from some bushes away to the left, in a series of bounds, a magnificent puma sprang into sight, and seemed to be racing Pete so as to get first to the fallen bird.

Pete was nearest, and would have been there first, but he suddenly caught sight of the great active cat and stopped short.

This had the effect of making the puma stop short too, and stand lashing its tail and staring at Pete as if undecided what to do.

I ought to have behaved differently, but I was as much taken by surprise as Pete, and I, too, stood staring instead of reloading my gun, while it never once occurred to the lad that he had one already charged in his hand.

Suddenly, to my astonishment, he snatched off his straw hat.

“Shoo!” he cried, and sent it skimming through the air at the puma.

The effect was all he desired, for the beautiful animal sprang round and bounded away towards the nearest patch of forest, Pete after him till he reached his hat, which he picked up in triumph and stuck on his head again, grinning as he returned.

“That’s the way to scare that sort, Master Nat,” he cried.  And he reached me again just as I stooped to pick up the fallen bird.

“Cock of the Rocks, Pete,” I cried triumphantly, too much excited to think about the puma.

“Is he, sir?” said Pete.  “Well, he ran away like a hen.”

“No, no!  I mean this bird.  Isn’t it a beauty?”

“He just is, sir.  Lives on oranges, I s’pose, to make him that colour.”

“I don’t know what it lived on,” I said as I regularly gloated over the lovely bird with its orange plumage and soft wheel-like crest of feathers from beak to nape.  “This must go in your net, Pete; but you must carry it very carefully.”

“I will, Master Nat.  Going back now?”

“Back?  No,” I cried.  “We must follow up that other one.  I saw which way it flew.  Uncle will be in ecstasies at our having found a place where they come.”

“Will he, sir?  Thought it was golden-green birds with long tails.  Quizzals.  That one’s got hardly any tail at all.”

“He wants these too,” I said, closing the breech of my gun.  “Come along.”

“But how about that there big cat, sir?  He’s gone down that way.”

“We must fire at it if it comes near again, or you must throw your hat,” I said, laughing.

“All right, sir, you know.  Only if he or she do turn savage, it might be awkward.”

“I don’t think they’re dangerous animals, Pete,” I said; “and we must have that other bird, and we may put up more.  Here, I’ll go first.”

“Nay, play fair, Master Nat,” said Pete; “let’s go side by side.”

“Yes, but a little way apart.  Open out about thirty feet, and then let’s go forward slowly.  I think we shall find it among those trees yonder.”

“The big cat, sir?” said Pete.

“No, no!” I cried; “the other bird, the cock of the rocks.  Now then, forward.”

A little flock of brightly-coloured finches flew up before we had gone a hundred yards, but I was so excited by the prospect of getting my prize’s mate that these seemed of no account, and we went on, my intention being to fire at the cock of the rocks, and nothing else, unless the golden plumage of a quetzal flashed into sight.

In another five minutes we had forgotten all about the puma, for we were leaving the trees where it had disappeared away to our left, and we went on and on, starting birds again and again, till we had passed over a quarter of a mile and were pushing on amongst open clumps of bushes with patches of woodland here and there.

Pete was abreast of me with the other gun, and I was sweeping the ground before me in search of the orange plumage of the bird I sought, which might spring up at any time, when I had to pass round a pile of rugged stones half covered with herbage.

“Sort of place for snakes to bask,” I said to myself, as I gave it a little wider berth, when all at once, to my surprise, up rose with a whirr not the bird I sought, but a little flock of seven or eight, and as I raised my gun to fire at the group of whizzing orange ­Thud!

Something heavy had bounded from the pile of stone I had passed, to alight full upon my shoulders.

Bang, bang! went both barrels of my gun, and the next moment I was down, spread-eagle fashion, on my face, conscious of the fact that what was probably the puma’s mate had bounded right upon me as I stooped forward to fire, and as I heard Pete utter a yell of horror, the beast’s muzzle was pressed down on the back of my neck, and its hot breath stirred the roots of my hair.