With clear eye, steady hand, and motionless body, he aimed at the bird, that was already three hundred feet above him. But he had not pressed the trigger, when a report resounded in the valley. A light smoke curled up between two rocks, and the condor, shot in the head, fell, slowly turning, sustained by his broad outspread wings. He had not released his prey, and at last reached the ground, ten paces from the banks of the stream.
"Quick! quick!" said Glenarvan; and without seeking whence this providential shot had come, he rushed towards the condor. His companions closely followed him.
"THE LOST IS FOUND."
When they arrived the bird was dead, and the body of Robert was hidden under its great wings. Glenarvan threw himself upon the child, released him from the talons of the condor, stretched him on the grass, and pressed his ear to his breast.
Never did a wilder cry of joy issue from human lips than when Glenarvan rose, exclaiming:
"He lives! he lives!"
In an instant Robert was stripped of his garments, and his face bathed with fresh water. He made a movement, opened his eyes, looked around, and uttered a few words:
"You, my lord—my father!——"
Glenarvan could not speak. Emotion stifled him, and, kneeling, he wept beside this child so miraculously saved.