“I’ll go and rouse the professor. He’s taking a nap; but I know he’d like to see such a sight.”
And Nat hastened off on his errand.
By the time he returned with the professor, the Discoverer was much closer to the giant birds. The man of science scrutinized them through the glasses.
“Condors,” he announced. “This is most interesting. These birds are the largest birds of prey in existence. Humboldt, the famous traveler, said that Indians told him that they had been found measuring eighteen feet from wing tip to wing tip.”
“Well, I should say they are aeroplanes,” exclaimed Nat. “Do they ever attack men?”
“Cases of it are not unknown,” said the professor, “and almost every Andean village has a story about a condor flying off with a baby. As a matter of fact, though, I guess they confine their attentions mostly to young sheep or calves light enough for them to carry.”
As they drew closer to the soaring mass of birds, they could see that if they were interested in the birds, the birds were quite as much interested in them. One or two began making long, wheeling arcs that brought them closer to the Discoverer.
“I guess they are wondering what sort of a bird we are, anyhow,” laughed Nat.
Indeed, it seemed so. Almost imperceptibly the birds gathered about the Discoverer, wheeling and screaming all about the craft. It could now be seen that they had sharp, large, hooked beaks, and a ruffle of dark flesh at the bottom of a flabby neck. Their wings were of a dull gray color, with black tip feathers, and were of a sweep and size undreamed of hitherto by the boys.
“They look like the harpies we used to read about in school,” said Joe.