me quick
conversation between the husband and wife, in which the latter made all
sorts of motions, including in their scope Tom, his rifle, the dead
condor and the now smiling baby.

The man took off his hat and approached Tom, genuflecting as he might
have done in church.

"She say you save baby from condor," the man said in his halting
English. "She t'ank you--me, I t'ank you. Bird see babe in deer
skin--t'ink um dead animal. Maybe so bird carry baby off, drop um on
sharp stone, baby smile no more. You have our lives, senor! We do
anyt'ing we can for you."

"Thanks," said Tom, easily. "I'm glad I happened to be around. I
supposed condors only went for things dead, but I reckon, as you say,
it mistook the baby in the deer skin for a dead animal. And I guess it
might have carried your little one off, or at least lifted it up, and
then it might have dropped it far enough to have killed it. It sure is
a big bird," and Tom strolled over to look at what he had bagged.

The condor of the Andes is the largest bird of prey in existence. One
in the Bronx Zoo, in New York, with his wings spread out, measured a
little short of ten feet from tip to tip. Measure ten feet out on the
ground and then imagine a bird with that wing stretch.

This same condor in the park was made angry by a boy throwing a feather
boa up into the air outside the cage. The condor raised himself from
the ground, and hurled himself against the heavy wire netting so that
the whole, big cage shook. And the breeze caused by the flapping wings
blew off the hats of several spectators. So powerful was the air force
from the condor's wings that it reminded one of the current caused when
standing behind the propellers of an aeroplane in motion. The condor
rarely attacks living persons or animals, though it has been known to
carry off big sheep when driven by hunger.

It was one of these animals Tom Swift had shot with his electric rifle.

"We do anyt'ing you want," the man gratefully repeated.

"Well, I've got about all I want," Tom said. "But if you could tell me
where those ten missing men are, and how they got out of the tunnel,
I'd be obliged to you."

The woman did not seem to comprehend Tom's talk, but the man did. He
started, and fear seemed to come over him.

"Me--I--I can not tell," he murmured.

"No, I don't suppose you can," said Tom, musingly. "Well, it doesn't
matter, I guess I'll have to cross it off my books. I'll never find
out."

Aga