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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

So difficult is it to guide ourselves by the
human faculty of pure reason.
Harry was so weak he was barely able to stand, even in the
strength of this new excitement and hope, and we were forced to
go very slowly; I supported him as well as I was able, being
myself anything but an engine of power. But the turn in the
passage was not far away, and we reached it in a quarter of an
hour or less.
Before we made the turn we halted. Harry was breathing heavily
even from so slight an exertion, and I could scarcely suppress a
cry of amazement when, for the first time in many days, the light
afforded me a view of his face.
It was drawn and white and sunken; the eyes seemed set deep in
his skull as they blinked painfully; and the hair on his chin and
lip and cheeks had grown to a length incredible in so short a
space of time. I soon had reason to know that I probably
presented no better an appearance, for he was staring at me as
though I were some strange monster.
"Good Heavens, man, you took like a ghost!" he whispered.
I nodded; my arm was round his shoulder.
"Now, let's see what this light means. Be ready for anything,
Harry--though Heaven knows we can find nothing worse than we've
had.


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