Other specks appeared against the blue of the sky. These specks did not move in a circle but came flapping grotesquely toward a central point. The scout of the buzzard flock had made his reconnoissance and by settling had signaled back his message. Nine other buzzards followed him and took up their patient watch upon the highest branches of the tall tree. Like black-shrouded, red-hooded ghouls they took their watch--waiting, waiting, waiting. A tenth bird fell like a bolt out of the sky and found itself a perch in a tree apart from the others. It was a small brown Mexican buzzard, the daring hawklike breed which does not wait till its prey is entirely dead. Roger's movements had gradually awakened Higgins and the latter also rolled on his back and followed Payne's upward stare at the waiting buzzards. "Pretty things, eh, Hig?" "Sweet, I'd call 'em. Good waiters too. 'Take all the time you want, boys,' they're saying! 'We'll be here when you are all through.' How in the devil do they get next to things so quick?" "Well, I suppose the signs of animal life in this neck of the woods aren't very plentiful. The sight of us must have been quite a treat to those birds." "Sure. Look how confident they are. They've had experience with animals foolish enough to straggle off in here. They look like they're going to sleep. 'Boys,' they're saying, 'we'll take a little nap now. But don't worry; you won't lose us; we'll be with you to the end and then some!'" The small Mexican buzzard, less patient than the larger scavenger birds, flopped halfway down from his branch, swooped over the two recumbent figures and swung upward to a new perch. "Take your time, old boy!" said Higgins. "You don't eat just yet." "We do!" Payne raised his legs high in the air and leaped to his feet without touching hands or body on the ground. Higgins essayed the same athletic feat and came down with a crash on his haunches. "No, I haven't got the spring in me that he has," he addressed the buzzards, "but don't you get too hopeful. I'll last a long time; thick men always do." "We'll warm up some of our venison, Hig," said Payne as he gathered dry sticks for a fire. "Our next move is to stoke ourselves to the bursting point. Then we'll rest some more while our internal machinery converts the venison into rich, red pep; and then we'll be ready to take a look round." As Higgins warmed the strips of broiled venison over the fire he cast a glance now and then at the buzzards. "Huh! I don't like that," he growled as he saw the birds unmoved by the odor of broiling meat. "Don't like what?" asked Payne.