But she needed little of our assistance; the presence of
the Inca king seemed to have inspired her with a boundless
terror, and she flew, rather than ran, between us.
We reached the bend in the passage, and just beyond it the
light--the first one we had seen on our way in. I had our route
marked on my memory with complete distinctness. Soon we found
ourselves in the wide, sloping passage that carried us to the
level below, and in another five seconds had reached its end and
the beginning of the last stretch.
At the turn Harry stumbled and fell flat, dragging Desiree to her
knees. I lifted her, and he sprang to his feet unhurt.
She was panting heavily. Harry had dropped his spear in the
fall, and we wasted a precious minute searching for it in the
darkness, finally finding it where it had slid, some twenty feet
ahead. Again we dashed forward.
A light appeared ahead in the distance, dim but unmistakable
--the light of the urns in the cavern for which we were headed.
Suddenly Desiree faltered and would have fallen but for our
supporting arms.
"Courage!" I breathed. "We are near the end."
She stopped short and sank to the ground.
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