As he spoke he leaned out from the chassis and hurled the bomb high in
the air. As he cast it out there was a slight click as the automatic
exploder set itself.

"Hold tight," shouted Frank, setting the sinking planes.

The aeroplane rushed downward like a stone. Suddenly a terrific roar
filled the air and the boys felt as if their ear drums would be
fractured. The aeroplane swayed dizzily and Frank worked desperately
at his levers and adjusters.

For one terrible moment it seemed that the Golden Eagle was doomed to
destruction, but the brave craft righted herself and soared on.

The bomb had done its work.

Of the huge flock of condors that had attacked the Golden Eagle only a
bare dozen or so remained. The rest had been killed or wounded by the
bomb. The survivors were far too terrified to think of pursuing the
boys and their craft further.

"Thank goodness we have escaped that peril," exclaimed Harry, as they
sailed onward through the air; "who would ever have thought that such
birds would have attacked an aeroplane."

"They frequently, so naturalists say, carry off babies and small
animals to their rocky nests," was Frank's response, "and birds as
bold as that I suppose resented the appearance of what seemed another
and larger bird in their realm."