On one occasion five large trees were blown down within a radius of a few hundred feet of my cage. Scores of limbs were broken off by the wind and scattered like straws. Some of them were six or eight inches in diameter and ten or twelve feet long. One of them broke the corner of the bamboo roof over my cage. The limb was broken off a huge cotton tree near by and fell from a height of about sixty feet. It was carried by the wind some yards out of a vertical line as it fell, and just passed far enough to spare my cage. Had it struck the body of it, the cage would have been partly demolished; the main stem of the bough was about six inches in diameter and ten feet long. This particular tornado lasted for nearly three hours and was the most violent of all I saw during the entire year. Now the storm subsides, but the darkness is impenetrable. I have no light of any kind, for that would alarm the inhabitants of the jungle and attract a vast army of insects from all quarters. Moses is fast asleep, while I sit listening to the many strange and weird sounds heard in the jungle at night. The bush crackles near by. A huge leopard is creeping through it. He is coming this way. Slowly, cautiously, he approaches. I cannot see him in the deep shadows of the foliage, but I can locate him by sound, and identify him by his peculiar tread. Perhaps when he gets near enough he will attack the cage. He is creeping up closer. He evidently smells prey and is bent on seizing it. My rifle stands by my elbow. I silently raise it and lay it across my lap. The brute is now crouching within a few yards of me, but I cannot see to shoot him. I hear him move again, as if adjusting himself to spring upon the cage. He surely cannot see it, but by means of scent he has located me. I hear a low rustling of the leaves as he swishes his tail preparatory to a leap. If I could only touch a button and turn on a bright electric light! He remains crouching near, while I sit with the muzzle of the rifle turned towards him. My hand is on the lock. It is a trying moment. If he should spring with such force as to break the frail network that is between us, there could be but one fate for me. In the brief space of a few seconds a thousand things run through one’s mind. They are not necessarily prompted by fear, but rather by suspense. Is it best to fire into the black shadows or to wait for the leopard’s attack? What is his exact pose? What does he intend? How big is he? Can he see me? A category of similar questions rises at this critical moment. A clash of bushes and he is gone; not with the stealthy, cautious steps with which he advanced, but in hot haste. He has taken alarm, abandoned his purpose, and far away can be heard the dry twigs crashing as he hurries to some remote nook. He flees as if he thought he was being pursued. He is gone, and I feel a sense of relief.