“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“Of course you did, sir. That’s human nature, that is. But, I say, Mr Cyril, sir, what does it all mean? Why has the colonel come out here? He can’t have come just to see people cut down a few trees and peel off the bark.”
“I begin to think he has.”
“But I could have taken him down in Surrey, sir, and showed him into woods where they were doing all that to the oak trees, without coming out here, or running any risks of getting an arrow sent through you, just as if you was a chicken got ready to roast.”
“I don’t quite understand it yet,” said Cyril; “but don’t talk any more now. Look, look! what is he going to do?”
Chapter Thirteen.
In Treasure Land.
They were by this time close up in front of the huts of the bark gatherers, when all at once one of the huge condors came swooping along overhead, looking gigantic up against the sky. And then it was as if a sudden idea had struck the colonel, who raised his piece, took aim, lowered it, and hesitated; for the huge bird was at a great distance, and the people looked at him wonderingly. The next moment his rifle was at his shoulder again, there was the flash and puff of white smoke, the sharp crack, and the rumbling echoing roar in the mountains, as the condor was seen to swerve and then dart straight upward.