All eyes turned immediately in the direction indicated so imperiously.
The dark speck was increasing visibly. It was evidently some bird
hovering above them.

"A condor," said Paganel.

"Yes, a condor," replied Glenarvan. "Who knows? He is coming down--
he is gradually getting lower! Let us wait."

Paganel was not mistaken, it was assuredly a condor.
This magnificent bird is the king of the Southern Andes, and was
formerly worshiped by the Incas. It attains an extraordinary
development in those regions. Its strength is prodigious.
It has frequently driven oxen over the edge of precipices down into
the depths of abysses. It seizes sheep, and kids, and young calves,
browsing on the plains, and carries them off to inaccessible heights.
It hovers in the air far beyond the utmost limits of human sight,
and its powers of vision are so great that it can discern
the smallest objects on the earth beneath.

What had this condor discovered then? Could it be the corpse
of Robert Grant? "Who knows?" repeated Glenarvan, keeping his
eye immovably fixed on the bird. The enormous creature was
fast approaching, sometimes hovering for awhile with outspread wings,
and sometimes falling with the swiftness of inert bodies in space.
Presently he began to wheel round in wide circles. They could
see him distinctly. He measured more than fifteen feet, and his
powerful wings bore him along with scarcely the slightest effort,
for it is the prerogative of large birds to fly with calm majesty,