“Quite a specimen,” observed Joe. “And speaking of specimens,” he went on, “why can’t we skin it and take it with us? Our dads and Mr. Wallace would sure be tickled. The white condor! Boy! I can just see them giving cries of delight.”
“Nothing to prevent us,” returned the other youth. “We may find it hard to place in our mule train, but we’ll manage some way.”
Bob secured a long knife, and with a skill that he learned while on other hunting trips he cut the bird’s skin open down the breast. A few minutes more and the task was completed.
Without the weight of the body, the skin was light, and they had no difficulty in tying it over the back of one of the mules, which appeared not to notice the extra load.
With one last look at the spot where Joe had almost met his death, they turned and drove the pack animals ahead on the remainder of the journey to Pasaje.
But now they were more anxious than ever to reach their destination and fly with Karl Sutman to the place where their fathers were hunting. With every minute they longed still more to reach the town they were approaching.
“I hope nothing further comes up to stay us,” remarked Bob, as they descended a steep slope. “Somehow I’ve had enough excitement for a while.”
“So have I,” said Joe. “But of course there’s no way of telling what we may meet in these mountains.”
The next day they found themselves in a wide valley, which was covered with a heavy growth of dense vegetation. Tree ferns were quite prominent, growing in large clusters that dotted the valley. Bright flowers were also numerous, some of them unusual in shape and form.
And with this heavy vegetation came several varieties of wild animals, among them being foxes, lizards, guinea pigs, and a host of birds. The youths could easily have shot some, but they did not wish to lose time in doing so.