With a terrific fluttering of its heavy wings, the bird sank slowly to the ground. It touched the hard soil, and then with a convulsive twitch it lay still.
For almost a minute there was silence among the little party of adventurers. They were panting furiously, and their wide eyes had not yet lost their look of terror. Perspiration was streaming from them, making their faces shine gruesomely. It had been one of the narrowest escapes they had had so far.
Finally Joe wiped his face and looked at Bob with intense gratitude. Then his eyes fell on Dr. Rander, whose rifle was still warm from the timely shot.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said warmly. “If you hadn’t been so plucky, I would probably be lying in a broken mass at the bottom of the gorge right now. It was simply wonderful!”
“Forget it!” Bob disclaimed any praise offered him. “The only thing now that matters is that you’re alive.”
“Thank Bob for that,” the old man said. “If he had not thrown himself at your feet you would surely have gone over the cliff.”
“But it was your shot that finished the job,” protested Bob Holton. “Even with the weight of both of us the condor was slowly dragging us toward the brink.”
“I’m afraid my bullet would have been too late if you hadn’t done what you did,” persisted the old man.
“All right. Have it your own way.” With a laugh Bob dropped the matter and stooped over to examine the huge white bird.
It must have had a wing spread of over ten feet. Later measurements showed that this was accurate. But what impressed the youths most was its pure white feathers, which looked as clean as if they had been recently washed. The terrible claws and long sharp beak next caught the youths’ eyes, and their respect for the power of this monstrous bird was increased.