The Major had fired, and it seemed to him that an animal had fallen
close by, and that the whole herd, yelling louder than ever,
had rushed down and disappeared among the declivities lighted
up by the reflection of the volcano.

"Ah, I've got them," said a voice, the voice of Paganel.

"Got what?" asked Glenarvan.

"My spectacles," was the reply. "One might expect to lose that much
in such a tumult as this."

"You are not wounded, I hope?"

"No, only knocked down; but by what?"

"By this," replied the Major, holding up the animal he had killed.

They all hastened eagerly into the hut, to examine McNabbs'
prize by the light of the fire.

It was a pretty creature, like a small camel without a hump.
The head was small and the body flattened, the legs were long and slender,
the skin fine, and the hair the color of _cafe au lait_.

Paganel had scarcely looked at it before he exclaimed, "A guanaco!"

"What sort of an animal is that?" asked Glenarvan.

"One you can eat."