Waterton also tells us that “the Indians have a great dread of coming in contact with the ant-bear; and after disabling him in the chase” (for they esteem his flesh a dainty) “never think of approaching him till he be quite dead.” It is with good reason that they are thus cautious, for were they not so, their life might pay the penalty, as the following account will show: “An Indian, living near Rorainea, was hunting in the forest to the north of that mountain, with some others, armed with his long blow-pipe. In returning home, considerably in advance of the rest of the party, it is supposed that he saw a young ant-eater, and taking it up in his arms, was carrying it home, when its mother gave chase, overtook and killed him; for when his companions came up, they found him lying dead on his face, in the embrace of the ant-bear, one of its large claws having entered his heart. In the struggle he had managed to stick his knife behind his back into the animal, which bled to death, but not before the poor fellow had succumbed to its terrible hug. It was evident that he had only heard the ant-eater coming when it was close upon him, and, in turning round to look, his blow-pipe got caught across the path in front of him, then, as he turned to run, it formed a bar to his progress, and he fell over it as the animal seized him. So firmly had the animal grappled him, that to separate it from the corpse, the Indians had to cut off its fore legs.”[10] Such a mishap as this, however, must be of extremely rare occurrence.