LITMIR.BIZ

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meant to have you.”

      “That was fancy,” said Perry hastily. “I ought to have known better.”

      “No, it wasn’t fancy, my lad. I think he’d have had you, only seeing us all about made him give you up. But it’s all right.”

      “All right?”

      “Yes, sir, we’re on the c’rect track.”

      “Of course we are,” said Perry, as they marched on once more behind the mules, followed by the Indian.

      “You dunno what I mean, sir,” said John Manning testily. “I meant on the track for one o’ them di’mond valleys. Know what that bird was?”

      “Yes; a condor.”

      “Con grandmother, sir. It was a roc, one o’ them birds as carried Sindbad out o’ the valley. This was only a chicken, I should say; but it was a roc, all the same.”

      “What nonsense!” said Perry. “That was all fancy tale and romance.”

      “Not it, sir. I might have thought so once, but I don’t now. Let me ask you this, sir,” said Manning: “suppose there was no way out or no way into the valleys we’ve come along, could you climb up the sides?”

      “No, of course not.”

      “And if you’d heard tell of birds with wings thirty foot across before you’d seen ’em, would you have believed in them?”

      “No, and I don’t now.”

      “What! after one of ’em come down to attack you, and we scared it away.”

      “That was only about half the size.”

      “Oh, come, Master Perry, sir, don’t get a haggling about trifles; there ain’t much difference between fifteen foot and thirty. You mark my words, sir, the colonel’s been studying up his ’Rabian Nights, and he’s on the right track now for one of them valleys, and we shall go back to San-what’s-its-name with these ugly-looking donkey mules loaded up with all kinds of precious stones. You’re a lucky one, Master Perry, sir, and your fortune’s about made.”

      “Think so?” said Perry, for the sake of speaking, for he was very thoughtful.

      “Yes, sir, I just do; and as for me, I hope it’s going to be my luck to get just a few nubbly bits for myself, so as I can buy myself a cottage and a bit o’ garden, and keep a pig, so as to live retired. You’ll come and see me, Master Perry, then, won’t you?”

      “Of course,” said the boy, and then, making a trivial excuse to get away, he hurried along the line of slow-going mules to see that his father was right in front before their guide, who walked by the first mule; then there were three more plodding along, just far enough behind each other to be safe from any playful kick. By the head of the third mule their new Indian driver was walking with his bow over his shoulder, a handful of long arrows tucked under his arm, and his head bent down watching his footsteps.

      Perry kept behind at some distance, watching the Indian’s every gesture, till he saw his father returning, for the track had become wider, and the boy watched intently; for he saw the colonel bend down from his mule and tap the Indian on the shoulders as he said a few words in Spanish. But what they were Perry was too far off to hear, the mules too making a good deal of clattering on the rocky track, which noise was echoed all around in a wonderful way.

      “It must have been my fancy, but I could have been sure he said something to me in English,” muttered Perry. “I was so excited, I suppose.”

      Chapter Six

      A Night Alarm

      “Did you give the Indian lad the knife?” said the colonel as they came abreast.

      “No, father.”

      “Go and do it at once, and mind how you give it; the fellow’s as wild as a hawk. I thought he was going to spring over the precipice as soon as I touched him.”

      Perry took out the pocket-knife he had with him, and stepped forward; but a word from his father checked him.

      “I don’t want to make too much fuss over this, Perry, my lad,” he said, “but you displayed a great want of nerve. You did not act like a healthy, sturdy, English boy, and but for that Indian’s quick decision, you would have lost your life.”

      “Yes, father, I’m afraid so.”

      “Then, for goodness’ sake, my lad, try to shake off this girlish cowardice, or you’ll make me regret bringing you.”

      “I’ll try, father,” said the boy, his face flushing hotly.

      “That’s right. I’m sure Captain Norton’s son would have cut a better figure.”

      Perry’s face grew hotter, and he felt a bitter feeling of annoyance at being compared so unfavourably with the lad who had been his companion.

      The feeling was only momentary, though, and he went on and overtook the Indian, with the knife in his hand.

      He was going to give it without a word, but the idea that, perhaps, after all, the half-savage being might understand a few words of English, flashed into his mind, and he said:

      “This is not worth much, but I hope you’ll keep it in memory of my gratitude for your bravery to-day.”

      To his disgust, the Indian paid not the slightest attention, but trudged on barefooted beside the mule, as if perfectly unconscious of any one beside him, and Perry’s nerves being all on the jar, he felt irritated at giving, un-noticed, a pretty speech.

      “Here, catch hold,” he said. “This is for you.”

      He thrust the knife into the Indian’s grimy hand as he spoke, and then walked on to where Diego received him with a smile of welcome, and began talking directly in his mongrel tongue, perfectly content if the boy seemed to understand a word here and there, when he pointed to cavernous-looking holes in the cliff face opposite to him, to some brighter and greener spot in the gorge, or to some distant fall which glittered in the sunshine which came obliquely down into the narrow vale.

      All at once there was a beating of wings, and one of the huge condors, startled from the eyrie it occupied high up above their heads, suddenly threw itself off, and began to fly round, rising higher and higher, while the Indian rapidly fitted one of the long feathered arrows be carried to the string of his bow, waited till the great bird was gliding by, and then loosed the shaft. The arrow struck the condor in the wing, and made the huge bird give itself an angry jerk, as if it were disposed to turn upon its aggressor; but as Perry watched, the bird gave a few rapid beats with its pinions, shooting upwards rapidly, and though it was some distance away, the air was so clear that Perry distinctly saw the long feathered arrow shaken out of the condor’s white wing, and fall slowly down into the depths of the gorge, while the great bird literally shot up for some distance, and then glided over a shoulder of the mountain they were flanking, and disappeared.

      The Indian looked at Perry and shook his head, as he muttered some words which were easily interpreted.

      “Lost my arrow, and did not get my bird.”

      “And a good thing too,” said Perry. “It would have been of no use, and only wanton destruction.”

      The man nodded and smiled as if Perry’s words were full of sympathy for his loss. But they fell upon other ears as well, for the colonel was close behind.

      “Rather misdirected sympathy, I’m afraid, Perry, my lad,” he said. “The bird would have been no use to us, but I dare say its death would have saved the lives of a good many young vicunas and llamas.”

      Perry stared for a moment or two, and then: “Oh yes, I know. Do they live up in these mountains?”

      “Yes, you’ll see plenty by-and-by.”

      “Sort of goats, aren’t they, father?”

      “Well, my boy, they partake more of the nature of a camel or sheep, as you’ll say whenever you see the long-necked, flat-backed creatures. But it’s getting time

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