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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


When one finds itself unable to support the other, something
happens."
"But it might not happen for a hundred years."
"Or never," I agreed.
Again silence. Harry stood gazing at one of the flaming urns,
buried in thought--easy to guess of what nature. I did not think
fit to disturb him, till presently he spoke again.
"What do you suppose that ugly devil will do about--what he saw
in here?"
I smiled. "Nothing."
"But if he should? We are helpless."
"Trust Desiree. It's true that she can't even talk to him, but
she'll manage him somehow. You saw what happened just now."
"But the creature is no better than a dumb brute. He is capable
of anything. I tell you, we ought to get her away from here."
"To starve?"
"And we're none too safe ourselves. As for starving, we could
carry enough of their darned fish to last a year. And one thing
is sure: we won't get back to New York lying round here waiting
for something to turn up--even a mountain."
"What do you want to do?"
"Clear out. Get Desiree away from that ugly brute. If we only
had our knives!"
"Where would we go?"
In that question was the whole matter.


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