But they would not
disappear. One fell; another took his place; and another, and
another, and another.
The bodies of those who fell were dragged away from underneath.
I did not see it, but it must have been so, or soon we would have
raised our own barricade for defense--a barricade of flesh. And
there was none.
I began to weaken, and Harry saw it, for he gasped out:
"Steady--Paul. Take it--easy. They can't--last--forever."
His blows were redoubled in fury as he moved closer to me, taking
more than his share of the attack, so that I almost had time to
breathe.
But we could not have held out much longer. My brain was
whirling madly and a weight of a thousand tons seemed dragging me
remorselessly, inevitably to the ground. I kept my feet through
the force of some crazy instinct, for will and reason were gone.
And then, for an instant, Harry's eyes met mine, and I read in
them what neither of us could say, nor would. With the fury of
despair we struck out together in one last effort.
Whether the Incas saw in that effort a renewed strength that
spoke of immortality, or whether it happened just at that moment
that the pressure from behind was removed, no longer forcing them
to their death, I do not know.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209