Perry shook his head.
“Is it any use to ask him where he means to stop?” whispered Cyril.
“No; not a bit.”
“Hallo! Look here!” cried Cyril, and Perry snatched up his piece from where it lay.
“Look out, father!” he cried, as one by one, with solemn, slow stride, some half-dozen peculiar-looking, flat-backed, long-necked animals came into sight round an angle of the valley at the far side of the chaos of stones amongst which they had made their halt.
“Put down that gun. Don’t be stupid,” cried Cyril. “Can’t you see they are llamas?”
“What if they are? I suppose they are good to eat.”
“I shouldn’t like to try one,” cried Cyril, laughing.
The colonel had now caught sight of the animals, which kept on coming round the corner in regular file, with their long necks held up stiffly.
“Quite a caravan,” the colonel said. “Ask Diego what they are carrying.”