“I tell you, they don’t mean anything,” cried Perry.
“Then why does my one, as soon as he knows he has frightened me, begin to show his teeth, and laugh and wriggle his ears about, as if he were enjoying himself right down to the roots. I don’t believe these mules are any good, Master Perry, that I don’t, and as aforesaid, I always feel as if I’d rather walk.”
Further conversation was put an end to by the return of the colonel, and soon after, leaving the Indians crouching near the fire, which they seemed reluctant to leave, the English party sought the corner which had been selected for their sleeping-place, rolled themselves in their blankets, and with valises for pillows, and their stores piled up for a shelter from the wind, they were not long in dropping off to sleep.
Perry’s was sound enough at first, but after a time he began to dream and go through the troubles connected with crossing the swinging bridge again. He found himself half-way across, and then he could go no farther in spite of all his efforts, till, just as the condor was about to take advantage of his helplessness, and descend to fix its talons in the sides of his head and pick out his eyes, the Indian made a snatch at him, and dragged him across for him to awake with a start.
It was all so real that his brow was wet with perspiration, but he settled what was the cause, and changed his position peevishly.
“That comes of eating charqui late at night, and then lying on one’s back,” he muttered, and dropped off to sleep again directly.
But only to begin dreaming again of the condor, which was floating overhead, spreading its wings quite thirty feet now; and there was the scene of the day repeated with exaggerations. For the Indian guide bent an immense bow, and sent an arrow as big as a spear whizzing through the air, to strike the huge bird, which swooped down close by, and looked at him reproachfully, as it said in a whisper: “I only came to bring back your knife.”
Perry lay bound in the fetters of sleep, but all the same, his ears seemed to be open to outer impressions, for the words were repeated close to him, and he started up on to his elbow.
“Who’s there? who spoke?” said a low firm voice close to him. “That you, Perry?”
“Yes, father,” replied the boy, as he heard the ominous click-click of the double gun that lay by the colonel’s side.