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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

There was a nauseating,
rancid taste to the stuff, but I dared not even raise my head to
expectorate.
Finally my teeth met; the cords were severed. I felt carefully
about with my tongue to make sure there were no others; then,
without moving my hands in the slightest degree, carefully raised
my head.
It was then that I first noticed--not light, but a thinning out
of the darkness. It was, of course, merely the adjustment of my
eyes to the new conditions. I could make out no forms surrounding
me, but, looking down, I could clearly distinguish the outline of
my hands as they lay on the ground before me.
And, again looking up, I fancied that I could see, some twenty or
thirty feet to the right, that the darkness again became suddenly
dense and impenetrable.
"That must be a wall," I muttered, straining my eyes toward it.
"What's that?" asked Harry sharply.
Obedient to my instructions, the lad had lain perfectly
motionless and silent for over an hour, for it must have taken me
at least that long to gnaw through the cords.
"I said that must be a wall. Look, Harry, about thirty feet to
the right. Doesn't it appear to you that way?"
"By Jove," he exclaimed after a moment of silence, "it's getting
light! Look!"
I explained that, instead of "it's getting light," his eyes were
merely becoming accustomed to the darkness.


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