There was no
movement--his eyes were closed. Calling to Harry to watch the
corridor without, I quickly tore my woolen jacket into strips--my
fingers seemed to be made of steel--and bound the wrists and
ankles of the Inca firmly, trussing him up behind.
Then with another strip I gagged him, thinking it best to err on
the side of prudence. In another moment I had dragged him to the
corner of the room behind the granite couch and covered him with
its hide-cover.
Then I turned to Harry:
"Is the coast clear?"
"Yes," he answered from the doorway.
"Then here--quick, man! Get the clubs and the grub.
Desiree--come! There's not a second to lose."
"But, Paul--" she began; then, seeing the utter folly of any
other course than instant flight, she sprang to Harry's side to
assist him with the bundles of provisions.
There was more than we could carry. Harry and I each took a
bundle under our left arm, carrying the clubs in the other hand.
Desiree attempted to take two bundles, but they were too heavy
for her, and she was forced to drop one.
With a last hasty glance at the motionless heap in the corner we
started, Harry leading and myself in the rear, with Desiree
between us.
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