“Yes. An Indian told me that the people in the town were turning against their prefect. Didn’t like his rule, and wanted a change. But the soldiers soon fixed them.”
“Is the fighting over?” Bob had not heard a rifle shot for several minutes.
“Yes. The soldiers forced the citizens to throw away their weapons.”
“And that reminds me,” laughed Joe. “We’d better be getting our rifles out, because we may see some game before long. I’d like to get a shot at a condor.”
“Condors live only in high mountains,” explained Dr. Rander. “We won’t see any for many days, if at all.”
But although the adventurers did not catch a glimpse of these huge birds, they saw occasional small animals, such as rabbits and chinchillas. Once Joe took a shot at one of the latter creatures, but his aim was not steady and he missed.
At noon that day they came to a small adobe hut, from which hung a green wreath.
“What does that stand for?” asked Bob innocently. “Is somebody dead?”
For the second time since the youths had known him, old Dr. Rander burst out in laughter.
“Hardly,” he said finally. “A green wreath means that bread is for sale.”