We had gone on some way further, when Jerry laid his hand on my arm. "What is that, Harry?" he exclaimed. "It is the puma! See the rascal how stealthily he creeps along! He's after some mischief, depend on it. I hope he won't go back and eat up our guanacoes." "We must take care that he does not do that," said I. "We'll stop his career. Is your rifle ready. We'll creep after him as stealthily as he is going along. He is so busy that he does not see us, and the chances are that we get near enough to knock him over." "Come along then," exclaimed Jerry; and, imitating the puma's cautious mode of proceeding, we rapidly gained on him. We had got up almost close enough to fire when Jerry whispered, "O Harry, what is that? It's Fleming, dear! dear!" Just below where the puma was crouching down ready to make his fatal spring, lay the form of the old seaman; but whether he was dead, or asleep, or fainting, we could not tell. There was not a moment to be lost. In another instant the savage brute would have fixed his claws in his throat. We rushed on--so did old Surley. The puma had actually begun his spring when we fired. Both our bullets took effect, but still he leaped forward. He fell close to Fleming. Our shipmate sprang up on his knees, but it was only to receive the claws of the brute on his chest. The blow knocked him over. We were running on and shouting all the time, to distract the attention of the puma. "He is killed! he is killed!" cried Jerry. "No." In an instant, with a clasp-knife in his hand, Fleming was up again and plunging away at the throat of the brute. He rose to his knees. He gave stab after stab, and prevented the puma from fixing its jaws on his own throat, which seemed the aim of the enraged animal. The brave Surley was at his flanks tearing and biting at them with all his might. "Hold on, Fleming," we shouted; "we will be up to you directly." "Fire! fire!" cried Fleming; "I can't keep the brute back much longer." At length Surley's attack seemed to produce more effect on the puma. For a moment he turned round to try to repel him. Fleming seized the opportunity, and, taking better aim than he had hitherto been able to do, plunged his knife right up to the hilt in the animal's breast, and then sprang back out of his way. We came up at the same moment, barely in time to save Surley from some severe handling, for the puma had turned all his fury on him. We stopped and loaded, and then running on got close up to the beast, to run no risk of hitting the dog, and fired. Over he rolled, giving a few spasmodic clutches with his claws, and with a snarl expired. "You've saved my life anyhow, young gentlemen," said Fleming. "When I felt the brute's claws on my breast, before I saw you and honest Surley there, I thought it was all over with me."