In the old house of the rubber trader of La Pedrera, in the Caquetá River, a group of Macunas waits for the airplane. My friend, new owner of the house, has brought to the meeting a puppy of English bloodhound, Sancho, who, in the playing to which his white owner has accustomed to, bites Isaac, a shaman of respect. The party is over. Next day the airplane arrives, and the Macunas gather their packages and return to their Malocas.
Few days later, a boat stops in the house. They ask: there is a shotgun? We answer: no, why? They say: A jaguar crossed the river in front of us and left up here. Let’s look for it!
We left without a shotgun and the small dog with us; we caught the track and followed it. The bloodhound went, driven crazy by the adventure, towards the center. In the maze, we could not follow more, and returned still hearing the barks.
That night, the rain erased the tracks; we woke up early to look for and we did find nothing. There was nothing to find; Isaac came back for the dog.