THE ANDES. 



33 



which surrounded us, I must own, that if free 

 from emotion myself, I could very well have 

 excused in another some degree of superstitious 

 terror at being thus gloated upon by the si- 

 nister eyes of this winged monster anticipating 

 a mortal repast* 



We used here some portable soup, which 

 Captain Pearson of the Sparrowhawk had 

 kindly given us ; but it was made so rich, that 

 I did not escape the nightmare on my stony 

 couch. In my dreams the condor was meta- 

 morphosed into a mountain robber, who ap- 

 peared suspending a dagger over my breast 

 ready to strike the blow. Here the spell 

 broke, I uttered a cry, and awaking, found 

 myself sitting up on my blanket in the act of 

 cocking one of my pistols, a brace of which 

 always lay under my pillow at night. 



The sky was spangled with stars, but there 



