CHAPTER VI.
Wardy was so intent on the preservation of his black jaguar pelt, so rapturous over it as a trophy, so boastful because he claimed to be one of a bare half dozen living men who had shot one, that he was unapproachable. He and Benny were so smeared with their slaughterhouse work as they painstakingly picked and scraped and tore away minute pieces of fat from the inside of that unfortunate beast’s hide, that one might have thought the fate of generations of sportsmen to come hinged upon their doing this job thoroughly. Wardrop rhapsodized like a poet.
The doctor and Ixtual and Juan all clawed moss and lichen. I knew we couldn’t advance until the work was done, so, being the only practical man in the party, borrowed Wardrop’s shotgun and started out to get a few wild birds for t
