e
injured him severely. The vaquero was aware of all this, and therefore
did not leave his hiding-place until he had firmly knotted one end of
the long cord around the shank of the bird--then slipping out at one
side, he ran off to some distance before stopping. The condor,
apparently relieved of his disagreeable company, made a sudden effort,
and rose into the air, carrying the hide after him. Leon shouted out,
for he thought the vulture had escaped; but the vaquero knew better, as
he held the other end of the cord in his hand; and the bird, partly from
the weight of the skin, and partly from a slight tug given by the
hunter, soon came heavily to the ground again. The vaquero was now
joined by Guapo; and, after some sharp manoeuvring, they succeeded
between them in passing the string through the nostrils of the condor,
by which means it was quietly conducted to the hut, and staked on the
ground in the rear--to be disposed of whenever its captor should think
fit.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE PERILS OF A PERUVIAN ROAD.

It was as yet only an hour or so after daybreak--for the vicuna hunt had
occupied but a very short time and the capture of the condor a still
shorter. Don Pablo was anxious to be gone, as he knew he was not beyond
the reach of pursuit. A pair of the vicunas were hastily prepared, and
packed upon a llama for use upon their journey. Thus furnished, the
party resumed their route.

The vaquero did not accompany them. He had an office to perform of far
more importance to their welfare and safety. As soon as they were gone
he let loose his four snarling curs, and taking them out to where the
pile of dead vicunas lay upon the plain, he left them there with
instructions to guard the carcasses from foxes, condors, or whatever
else might wish to make a meal off them. Then mounting, he rode off to
the place where the road leading from Cuzco ascended upon the
table-land, and having tied his horse to a bush, he climbed upon a
projecting rock and sat down. From this point he commanded a view of
the winding road to the distance of miles below him. No traveller--much
less a party of soldiers--could approach without his seeing them, even
many hours before they could get up to where he sat; and it was for that
reason he had stationed himself there. Had Don Pablo been pursued, the
faithful Indian would have galloped after and given him warning, long
before his pursuers could have reached the plain.

He sat