"May we take them back to camp and skin them?" asked Ned.
"You may take them in, of course; but I would not advise you to skin the brutes. The skins are not worth anything in the first place, and in the second, we should be unable to keep them all the way across the desert, I am afraid."
"You mean they would spoil?" questioned Ned.
"Yes."
"Then we'll take them down to show to the Professor. After that we'll bury them."
"Not necessary at all," smiled the guide. "The buzzards will attend to that part of the work. They'll be around in the morning. You'll see them."
"But how will the buzzards know?" asked Walter.
"That I cannot say. They do know. Instinct, I suppose. All animals and birds have the instinct necessary for their kind, yet it is all a mystery to us."
Very proudly the lads dragged their trophies to camp, where, after heaping fresh sage brush on the fire, the youngsters stretched the carcasses out full length that Professor Zepplin might see.
"Very fine, young men. You say they were howling and woke you up?"