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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

He was swimming easily
toward me, apparently unhurt.
"All right, Hal?"
"Right. And you?"
"Sound as a whistle. Now make for the column."
At the instant that we turned to swim toward the column I became
aware of a strong current in the water carrying us off to the
right. It was inexplicable, but there was no time then for
speculation, and we struck out with bold, sweeping strokes.
The Incas had left the stone seats and advanced to the water's
edge. I could see their black, sinister faces, thousands of them,
peering intently at us through the dim light, but they made no
sound.
Once I cast a glance over my shoulder and saw Desiree standing at
the edge of the alcove with her clenched fists pressed to her
throat. Beside her stood the Child of the Sun. Harry, too, saw
her and sent her a shout of farewell, but there was no answer.
We were now less than thirty feet from the column. Its jeweled
sides sparkled and shone before us; looking up, our eyes were
dazzled. Something struck the water near me. I glanced to the
right and saw what moved me to hasten my stroke and call to Harry
to do likewise.
The black devils were increasing the fun by hurling stones at us
from the bank--apparently with the kind approval of Pachacamac.


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