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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


"What is it?" he whispered.
In silence I pointed with my finger to where two Incas stood in
the passage ahead of us, just without the patch of light from the
doorway, which they were facing. They made no movement; we were
as yet undiscovered. They were about a hundred feet away from
where we stood.
"Then she's here!" whispered Harry. "They are on guard."
I nodded; I had had the same thought.
There was no time to lose; at any moment that they should chance
to glance in our direction they were certain to see us. I
whispered hastily and briefly to Harry. He nodded.
The next instant we were advancing slowly and noiselessly,
hugging the wall. We carried our spears ready, though we did not
mean to use them, for a miss would have meant an alarm.
"If she is alone!" I was saying within myself, almost a prayer,
when suddenly one of the Incas turned, facing us squarely, and
gave a start of surprise. We leaped forward.
Half a dozen bounds and we were upon them, before they had had
time to realize their danger or move to escape it. With a
ferocity taught us by the Incas themselves we gripped their
throats and bore them to the floor.


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