Satisfied with my reply, she added, “Very well; I believe that you will come out successfully.”
She made sure that I lacked nothing, and then went out.
What Braulio had called “ore” was in reality nothing less than the jaguar’s head; and in that tricky way he had got the trophy of our exploit brought into the house. What happened in the dining-room, I learned afterwards. They were just serving the coffee when Juan Ángel came in, and saying that I was coming, told my father what was in the bag. The latter was desirous of getting Don Jerónimo’s opinion on the quartz, and told the boy to take it out; Juan was going to do it when he gave a cry of terror, and leaped like a startled deer. It was at once seen what had frightened him. Leaning back against the wall, with staring eyes, he stretched out both hands towards the bag, and cried, “The jaguar!”
“Where?” shouted Don Jerónimo, spilling part of his coffee, and leaping up with more agility than would have been expected in a man of such a girth. Carlos and my father also rose. Emma and María drew close to each other.
“In the bag!” replied the questioned Juan.
All breathed again. My father carefully opened the bag, and seeing the head roll out upon the tiles, stepped back. So did Don Jerónimo, and leaning his hands on his knees, he exclaimed, “The monster!”
Carlos went up to examine the head, and said, “What a fearful fellow!”
“Who killed him?” he asked Juan Ángel, who had become calm again.
“Little master’s rifle.”
“Did little master’s rifle do it all by itself?” asked Don Jerónimo, laughing, and sitting down again.
“No, master, only Braulio told me just now up on the hill that he owed his life to it …”
“Why, where is Efraín, then?” asked my father, in some perturbation, and glancing at María.
“He stayed up by the rocks.”
At that point my mother came in. Forgetting that she had just seen me, she cried out, “Oh, my boy!”
“He’ll be here immediately,” my father said to her.
“Yes, yes, I know it,” she replied; “but how did they kill this beast?”
“The ball went here,” said Carlos, leaning down and pointing out the hole in the forehead.
“But is it possible?” asked Don Jerónimo, addressing my father, and going up to the brazier to light his cigar—“is it possible that you let Efraín do such things?”
My father smiled, and answered him complacently, “I told him today to get me a bearskin for the foot of my bed, and it seems he has found it easier to bring me a jaguar-skin.”
María had already seen in my mother’s eyes enough to reassure her. She started towards the parlor, leading Juan by the hand; the little fellow, still frightened and grasping her skirt, was hindering her in walking. She had to take him up and carry him, and said to him as she went but: “Crying? Oh, shame! A man afraid like that?”
Don Jerónimo heard her, and turning in his chair and puffing out a cloud of smoke, remarked, “The other one will be killing jaguars, too.”
“Well, if Efraín has not become a hunter of wild beasts!” said Carlos to Emma, seating himself at her side. “Why, in college he would not so much as fire a popgun at a sparrow. But no, I remember now one holiday when I saw him do some good shooting at Fontibón Lake. Does he hunt often now?”
“He has been several times with José and Braulio,” answered my sister, “and has killed some young bears and some fine wolves.”
“I was thinking of proposing a deer-hunt for tomorrow, and for that reason I brought my English rifle along.”
“He will be much pleased to gratify you; if you had come yesterday, you could both have gone to the hunt today.”
“Oh yes, if I had only known.”
Just then Mayo, who had been disposing of some savory morsels in the kitchen, came in. He stopped at sight of the head, elevated his neck and back, and cautiously went around in a circle to smell at it; then he rushed out and bounded about the house, afterwards coming back into the dining-room and beginning to howl. It was because he could not find me, and he seemed to feel instinctively that I had been exposed to danger.
My father was much affected by the howling: he was a man who believed in certain prognostics and auguries.
“Mayo, Mayo, what is it?” said he, petting the dog with ill-concealed impatience; “isn’t this boy ever coming?”
At that moment I went into the parlor, dressed in a way that would have made it difficult for Lucía and Tránsito to recognize me, unless very near. María was there. We had scarcely time to exchange greetings and smiles. Juan, who was seated on María’s lap, said to me as I went on, pointing to the door, “The ugly thing is in there.”
I passed in smiling, for I thought the child meant Don Jerónimo. I embraced Carlos warmly, as he sprang up to meet me; and for the moment I forgot almost entirely what I had suffered, on his account, in these last days. Señor M⸺ cordially grasped my hand, saying, “Come, come, how old we must be getting if all these boys are men already.”
We soon went into the parlor; María was no longer there. The conversation turned upon the hunt, and I was almost given the lie by Don Jerónimo when I said that our success was due to Braulio: he confronted me with what Juan Ángel had said.
Emma told me how Carlos had come prepared for a deer-hunt; and he was delighted when I promised him a fine one near the house. As soon as my sister withdrew, Carlos wanted to show me his English rifle, and for that purpose we went to my room. It was precisely like the one my father had given me on my return from Bogotá,
