“Oh, Ken, you pegged him!” cried Hal. “He doesn’t move. Let’s go ashore. What did I tell you? It took me to find the tiger.” Ken watched with sharp eyes and held his rifle ready, but the huddled form on the sand never so much as twitched. “I guess I plugged him,” said Ken, with unconscious pride. Pepe rowed the boat ashore, and when near the sand-bar he reached out with an oar to touch the jaguar. There was no doubt about his being dead. The boys leaped ashore and straightened out the beast. He was huge, dirty, spotted, bloody, and fiercely savage even in death. Ken’s bullets had torn through the chest, making fearful wounds. Pepe jabbered, and the boys all talked at once. When it came to lifting the jaguar into the boat they had no slight task. The short, thick-set body was very heavy. But at last they loaded it in the bow, and Pepe rowed back to the island. It was still a harder task to get the jaguar up the high bank. Pepe kindled a fire so they would have plenty of light, and then they set to work at the skinning. What with enthusiasm over the stalk, and talk of the success of the trip, and compliments to Ken’s shooting, and care of the skinning, the boys were three hours at the job. Ken, remembering Hiram Bent’s teachings, skinned out the great claws himself. They salted the pelt and nailed it up on the big cypress. “You’d never have got one but for me,” said Hal. “That’s how I pay you for the tricks you’ve played me!” “By George, Hal, it’s a noble revenge!” cried Ken, who, in the warmth and glow of happiness of the time, quite believed his brother. Pepe went to bed first. George turned in next. Ken took a last look at the great pelt stretched on the cypress, and then he sought his blankets. Hal, however, remained up. Ken heard him pounding stakes in the ground. “Hal, what ’re you doing?” “I’m settin’ my trot-lines,” replied Hal, cheerfully. “Well, come to bed.” “Keep your shirt on, Ken, old boy. I’ll be along presently.” Ken fell asleep. He did not have peaceful slumbers. He had been too excited to rest well. He would wake up out of a nightmare, then go to sleep again. He seemed to wake suddenly out of one of these black spells, and he was conscious of pain. Something tugged at his leg. “What the dickens!” he said, and raised on his elbow. Hal was asleep between George and Pepe, who were snoring. Just then Ken felt a violent jerk. The blankets flew up at his feet, and his left leg went out across his brother’s body. There was a string--a rope--something fast round his ankle, and it was pulling hard. It hurt. “Jiminy!” shouted Ken, reaching for his foot. But before he could reach it another tug, more violent, pulled his leg straight out. Ken began to slide. “What on earth?” yelled Ken. “Say! Something’s got me!”