The Birmingham age-herald., 1911-05-20
Zane Grey in Harper,s Weekly.


 ' and boatman, Pope, told me that O he knew of jaguar trail, made by the "grande tigre' of the Taumalipas jungle As the scene of the proposed hunt lay far back in the interior, reached only by the Panuco river, and affording me an opportunity to visit it's fascinating byways and waterways, I lost no time In arranging details.
 It was never possible for me to lie In bed upon the morning of a journey, and that was why l got to the canal wharf long before daylight and Pope. While I waited the gray cloud lighted and lifted and dawn broke with balmy freshness.
 The sun shone warm through rifts In the rolling mist. Pope was late. but presently I saw a boat coming down the canal and recognized his brawny shoul- ders. and we were soon out in the broad Pamlico river. At o'clock the sun was already hot and the river steaming with mist.
 At the little village of Tamos we had lunch under a shade tree on the bank. Above Tamos the banks of the Panuco were dotted with matched huts, and no more roofs with red and brown tiles and purple adobe walls caught my eye. After short journey we pitched camp early
 in favorable spot. In the jungle 1t is no easy task to find a fitting place on which to lay ones blankets, for it is the shome of innumerable creeping things. While Pope busted himself about the campfire found trail and followed it to
 Of cranes and pink famingoes. Egrets waded in the shallow reedy water. Little snipe and small black ducks puddled among the lily pads patch of canvas backs, teals and brant glistened like shiny island out in the lagoon. And on the moment I saw a long wavering line of geese, black against the rosy sky, vanish in the fire of the sunset.
 Beyond where we camped that night the huts grew few and far between Also the natives, what few we saw, proved shyer as we travelled up stream.
 Pope rowed 20 miles the next day, wind and tide assisting, and the farther west we travelled the wilder grew the jungle. Everywhere along the shore deer came down to drink. That day we passed few dila pdated huts which appeared to be de- serted At night, after vain attempts to locate any kind of space free of brush and vermin, we tried to sleep in the boat. All journeys have an end some time, and we reached our destination on a trib- utary of the Panuco. We pitched our camp facing the first step of mountain range. Pope had an acquaintance here, a herder, who owned a few fenced-in fields.
 'Ive only one neighbor. and his wife thinks her little boy was carried off by big jaguar' the herder said. But l believe the crocodiles got the lad. The streams full of them. You'll be doing us good turn to kill the crocodiles.' No one could sleep after dawn in this jungle. With the gray light peals out the incessant notes of birds, and then the rolling boom of the native pheasant, and lastly came thousands of screeching par rots. Outside the tent my guide was in tently studying the ground.
 "Tigre!" he said.
 There at my feet in the clay was the imprint of huge paw.
 That's a jaguar track I ejaculated
 My man put his spread hand inside that track It was fresh and might have been an hour or a half night old. I trailed our visitor down to the mouth of the runway. There were no cattle tracks, but the oval cuts of deer and peccary were too many to count. and cat tracks numbered seven of different sizes. Just then the herder came across the stream bringing mangy hound which, he said. would scent jungle cats. With Pope leading the hound we made off. The herder refused To go with us.
 At the outset the shady runway was sl- lent. The jungle slept. The long sliken streamers of moss waved without percep- tible wind, but there was no swayng or palm leaves or rustic of trailing Vines The intense heat of the day penetrated even the dense, covering overhead. we walked slowly and cautiously, making | little sound.
 Suddenly Pope stopped short with a i scream of "Tigre"
 ] l h.lrd swift shalslps Of padded feet q