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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


"It is useless," she gasped. "I hurt my ankle when I fell. I can
go no farther. Leave me!"
Harry and I with one impulse stooped over to pick her up, and as
we did so she fainted away in our arms. We were then but a few
hundred feet from our goal; the light from the urns could be
plainly seen gleaming on the broad ledge by the lake.
Suddenly the sound of many footsteps came from behind. I turned
quickly, but the passage was too dark. I could see nothing. The
sound came closer and closer; there seemed to be many of them,
advancing swiftly. I straightened and raised my spear.
Harry grasped my arm.
"Not yet!" he cried. "One more try; we can make it."
He thrust his spear into my hand, and in another instant had
thrown Desiree's unconscious body over his shoulder and was
staggering forward toward the cavern. I followed, while the sound
of the footsteps behind grew louder and louder.
We neared the end of the passage; we reached it; we were on the
ledge. Even with Desiree for a burden, Harry moved so swiftly
that I found it difficult to keep up with him. The strength of a
god was in him, which was but just, since he had his goddess in
his arms.


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