All at once there was a beating of wings, and one of the huge condors, startled from the eyrie it occupied high up above their heads, suddenly threw itself off, and began to fly round, rising higher and higher, while the Indian rapidly fitted one of the long feathered arrows be carried to the string of his bow, waited till the great bird was gliding by, and then loosed the shaft. The arrow struck the condor in the wing, and made the huge bird give itself an angry jerk, as if it were disposed to turn upon its aggressor; but as Perry watched, the bird gave a few rapid beats with its pinions, shooting upwards rapidly, and though it was some distance away, the air was so clear that Perry distinctly saw the long feathered arrow shaken out of the condor’s white wing, and fall slowly down into the depths of the gorge, while the great bird literally shot up for some distance, and then glided over a shoulder of the mountain they were flanking, and disappeared.
The Indian looked at Perry and shook his head, as he muttered some words which were easily interpreted.
“Lost my arrow, and did not get my bird.”
“And a good thing too,” said Perry. “It would have been of no use, and only wanton destruction.”
The man nodded and smiled as if Perry’s words were full of sympathy for his loss. But they fell upon other ears as well, for the colonel was close behind.
“Rather misdirected sympathy, I’m afraid, Perry, my lad,” he said. “The bird would have been no use to us, but I dare say its death would have saved the lives of a good many young vicunas and llamas.”
Perry stared for a moment or two, and then: “Oh yes, I know. Do they live up in these mountains?”
“Yes, you’ll see plenty by-and-by.”
“Sort of goats, aren’t they, father?”
“Well, my boy, they partake more of the nature of a camel or sheep, as you’ll say whenever you see the long-necked, flat-backed creatures. But it’s getting time for camping. The mules are growing sluggish, and sniffing about for food.”