Last and most formidable, because incalculable, is the great bearded vulture, or lammergeier (the gypaëte of the Gavarnie izard-hunters), a sly ruffian who makes up in brains what he lacks in weapons. This sort is as fond of carrion as the others, and has ways of his own for providing it.
The Master-Girl and her pursuers had not run three bow-shots before the eye of a watcher was upon them. By the time they had gone a mile the whole planetary system of the nearest peak was disturbed; and before the girl had taken sanctuary a ring of big birds was circling half a mile above her. This might mean business.
Her climbing was watched by the griffons without excitement; their turn might come later, but had not come yet; it was the bearded vulture which dropped out of the blue in bold spirals and marked the four humans disappear into that cheminée. Then, if a bird of prey ever swears he swore, for a man climbing between the strait walls of a cleft is of no use to him.
When two bodies fell there was commotion, the griffons shut their wings and plunged two thousand feet in a few seconds, but clapped on the brakes and bore up again with the wind rattling in their great drab quills, for the bodies had not rebounded upon the scree, but lay close under the rock—where something else might fall. Patience, brothers!
Moreover, there were two living figures yet upon that rock, and these the griffons held in fear. They climbed the sky again and waited on, wheeling narrowly and near.
Not so the bearded vulture, playing a lone hand and pursuing the traditional tactics of his race, he skimmed the summit of that aiguille and took stock of its capabilities. Two humans were still within the cleft. The upper was well sheltered from above, and on both sides. He turned short to keep her in his eye (a wicked crimson eye it was). At that moment she faltered, slipped and was almost gone. Instantly he dipped and edged in, but she recovered herself; out he went again. Whilst turning he once more caught sight of the lower figure; he had lost it for a while. It had shifted, had emerged from the cleft, and was clinging to an exposed, projecting buttress, overhung from above, safe from a downright stroke, but from a side-flick, eh?
The human moved slowly, it went short upon one of its fore-legs; it seemed, and was, very lame, very tired and unsure of its footing.
Meanwhile the two humans in question knew nothing of the scrutiny of which they were the subjects, being otherwise and fully engaged. Besides, griffons may guide a hunter to a kill, but signify naught else. The presence of the real danger had clean escaped them, for the bearded vulture is less given to soaring than to gliding along a cliff-face close in, ready for the emergencies of anything that moves thereon.
The light had begun to go; it was abominably cold, a flurry of small snow found its way into the cleft, and ran in little round dry pellets upon the naked back of the Master-Girl crouching for warmth like a hare in her form, and hugging herself against the strong shudders which ran through her. To have fought her battle and to have so nearly won, and to lose life and all from such a childish blunder!—If she had but the smallest of weapons, a skinning-knife, a bodkin, she would take her chance; but the bodkin had gone when the kaross went, and her knife had been wrenched from her hand when she struck. There was not one little wee loose stone within reach; she had tried them all, even to breaking her nails.
And that wretch Low-Mah, down there, not six bows'-lengths away, lamed as he was, would be girding at her all the time, breaking off at whiles to work desperately at that crippling arrow. It was certainly loosening. One barb held; but such was the fellow's courage that he would tear it out yet, and then?