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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


"But what do you think of that? Is it a wall?"
After a moment's silence he answered: "Ye-es," and then more
positively: "Yes. But what good does that do us?"
"That's what I am about to tell you. Listen! I've cut the cords
on my wrists, and I'm going to get my knife--"
"How the deuce did you manage that?" Harry interrupted.
"With my teeth. I've been rather busy. I'm going to get my
knife--cautiously, so they won't suspect if they are watching us.
We must lie close together on our sides, facing each other, so I
can cut the thongs on your wrists without being seen. Then you
are to get your knife--carefully. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
For the first time there was fight in Harry's voice; the curious,
barely perceptible tremor of the man of courage.
"All right. Go easy."
We went about the thing slowly, turning but an inch at a time; a
second mistake might prove fatal. We heard no sound of any kind,
and ten minutes later we were lying flat on our backs side by
side, keeping our hands hidden between our bodies, that the
absence of the thongs might not be discovered. Each of us held in
his right hand the hilt of a six inch knife.


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