Uttering a curious sound, the condor darted away, circled around for a brief period, and then flew at the explorers with a new determination.
One of the horrible claws shot out and caught Joe’s arm, the impact knocking the knife from the youth’s hand. It went hurtling to the bottom of the abyss, far below.
Joe was weaponless, helpless!
New horror crept over him when he suddenly felt himself leaving the ground. Not fifteen feet away was the edge of the cliff! Vainly he tried to escape from the clutch of that formidable claw.
Meanwhile, Bob and the old man were not inactive. They knew that it would only be a short time before their friend would be carried over the brink of the cliff. And that must be prevented at any cost.
Looking wildly about, Bob caught sight of a rock about half as large as a brick. Almost frantic, he picked it up, and with desperate strength he sent it crashing into the condor’s body.
The force was terrific, and for a moment it seemed as if the condor were going to drop. But it righted itself and carried the helpless Joe still farther toward the rocky edge.
“I’m going to try something,” blurted out Bob, his face red with an awful fear. “You run up to the mules and get a rifle—quick!” he said to Dr. Rander.
As a last resort, Bob hurled his hundred and eighty pounds at Joe’s feet, and caught hold with a grip of steel. He wondered if the huge bird could lift both himself and his friend. If it could....
At that moment Dr. Rander scrambled down the rocky slope with a rifle, which he aimed unflinchingly at the condor’s body. The next moment the gun barked.