"An avalanche!" said Mulready.
"Impossible! these are real howls!" replied Paganel.
"Let us see," cried Glenarvan.
"Let us see like hunters," answered the major, as he took his rifle.
All rushed out of the hut. Night had come. It was dark, but the sky was studded with stars. The moon had not yet shown her disk. The peaks on the north and east were lost in the darkness, and the eye only perceived the grotesque outlines of a few towering rocks.
The howls—those of terrified animals—were redoubled. They came from the dark side of the mountain. What was going on?
Suddenly there came a furious avalanche, but one of living creatures, mad with terror. The whole plateau seemed to tremble. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of these animals. Were they wild beasts of the Pampas, or only llamas? The whole party had only time to throw themselves to the earth, while this living whirlwind passed a few feet above them.
At this moment the report of a fire-arm was heard. The major had shot at a venture. He thought that a large animal fell a few paces from him, while the whole herd, carried along by their resistless motion, disappeared down the slopes illumined by the volcano.
"Ah, I have them!" cried a voice, that of Paganel.
"What have you?" asked Glenarvan.