Flocks of black vultures hovered high up in the sky, bending their course towards a spot not very far from the river bed. Our curiosity led us in that direction, and in a large hole, with perpendicular sides, about twelve yards wide, we saw several hundreds of these bare-necked gentry fighting over the carcass of a buffalo. We were retiring in disgust, when the vultures, who had not seemed the least alarmed at our presence, suddenly manifested fear, and, abandoning their prey, stood around in evident concern. A new guest had made its appearance in the sky, and soared round and round above us. It settled down heavily, and folded its black and white wings; the new-comer was the Sarcoramphus papa of the savants—a bird akin to the condor.
This king of the vultures, as the Indians call it, had a black tail, and white plumage on its back. Its neck was adorned with a ruff of pearl-gray feathers, and the top of its head was streaked in symmetrical lines with a dark down; on its yellow beak there was a fleshy protuberance, the utility of which ornithologists seek in vain to explain. The magnificent bird darted round it a domineering look, and, advancing towards the prey, began to feed. New guests were incessantly arriving, but they all kept their distance.
At last the sarcoramphus flew away, and immediately the vultures rushed en masse on the carcass, which soon disappeared under the crowd of beaks.
We now made for the raft, but the distance was greater than we had calculated; and, before going on board, it was highly necessary to free ourselves of the hundreds of ticks which we had collected in the savannah. These insects are black, and as small as fleas, and gather in masses at the extremities of plants, ready to attach themselves to any animal that brushes against them. They then bury their claws in the flesh, and greedily suck the blood. It is a tedious job to pick off one by one these troublesome parasites, which cause an almost unbearable itching.
About five o'clock in the evening, the raft came to shore in a bay shaded by palm-trees. L'Encuerado hastened to stretch out his tigers' skins, and, as night was at hand, we contented ourselves with the remains of a tortoise. The Indian, who had walked but little, cocked his gun and strolled along the edge of the river. In about a quarter of an hour he returned, looking pale and excited.
"Have you been bitten by a serpent?" I cried.
"No, Tatita," he replied, quite out of breath; "something worse than that! I have seen it!"
"What?" I exclaimed.
"A ghost!" said the Indian in a low tone, crossing himself.
"Pluck up your spirits," said I to the Indian; "if you have, we'll kill it to-morrow."