The waste soaked in petrol was placed on the ground at a safe distance from the boat. A match was applied and the flames shot high in the air, accompanied by a hissing sound that could not be attributed to the combustion of the highly volatile spirit. At intervals Peter replenished the fuel by the simple expedient of squirting petrol from a syringe. The flames were brilliant enough, but still the spluttering noise continued. Thus the two men spent the weary and anxious hours until the time should come when there would be enough light to enable them to continue their voyage, the while keeping eyes strained and ears alert for indications of danger. Suddenly the air was rent by a terrific shriek ending in a long-drawn-out howl. Somewhere beyond the edge of the low cliff a heavy body was thudding violently against the hard ground. Then for a few seconds, exposed to the full glare of the petrol flare, appeared the head and fore-quarters of the jaguar. The animal's eyes were almost starting from its head; its mouth was wide open, displaying a double row of glistening teeth and a red, lolling tongue. Peter raised his rifle, but before he could press the trigger, the head and shoulders disappeared. A brief interval ensued, then the jaguar's hind-quarters appeared, the clawed feet pawing aimlessly in the air. "Don't fire!" shouted Uncle Brian. "He's got more than he bargained for. The anaconda's seized him." The rest of the tragedy was hidden from human view, although the sounds from the scene of anguish gave a pretty clear indication of what was taking place. Held in the remorseless tension of several coils, the jaguar was being slowly crushed to death. Nevertheless, it was putting up a strenuous resistance, rolling over and over in a vain attempt to crush the anaconda by the weight of its body. Gasps and howls of agony rent the night air which, already heavy with pestilential odours, now reeked of blood and the nauseating smell from the huge reptile. The cracking of the jaguar's ribs under the irresistible pressure was now distinctly audible. The groans ceased. The anaconda was preparing for its gargantuan meal. "Can't we make a move?" asked Peter. "This stench is simply unbearable." He would have willingly risked the hidden dangers of that uncharted, cayman-infested river in the darkness to get away from the noxious camping-place, but Uncle Brian was obdurate. "We must stick it till dawn," he declared firmly, but without giving any reason. At length the day broke with the rapidity common in the Tropics. The roaring of the beasts of the forest died away and a strange stillness brooded over the now languid river. "Thank Heaven!" ejaculated Peter fervently. "Now for a fresh start." "We'll have a look at our friend the anaconda," suggested Uncle Brian. "The reptile did us a good turn, I fancy, for the jaguar was on the point of springing at us when he was seized."