It was a very sudden lurch, and the involuntary motion to recover his balance resumed in the camera slipping from his grasp. Bumping and sliding, it shot swiftly down the incline.
Bob Somers sprang forward to Dick's assistance, while Dave tried to catch the instrument. The former was successful, but the stout boy had no chance to intercept the camera.
With wild, staring eyes, Dick Travers watched the precious instrument headed straight for the precipice. Nothing could save it.
"It's gone," he said, in a hollow voice.
An instant later, the official photographer's official instrument sailed grandly over the brink, and followed goat and panther to the rocks below.
Dick Travers was inconsolable.
"Never mind, old man," said Bob, soothingly. "My dad will send you out another—honest, he will. You've got all your negatives safe."
"Fellows, look," remarked Havens, in a few minutes. He pointed to several large birds circling above the chasm. "Vultures," he said, briefly.
"After the goat and panther already?" exclaimed Bob, in surprise.
"Of course. I'd like to put a ball through the ugly rascals."