Prev | Current Page 292 | Next

Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

It was absolutely smooth, which
led me to believe that the cavern had at one time been filled
with water.
We reached the farther wall and, turning to the right, were about
to follow it.
"This is senseless," said Harry impatiently. "I tell you I have
examined this side, too; every inch of it."
"And the one ahead of us, at right angles to this?" I asked.
"That too," he answered.
"And the other--the one to the right of the stream?"
"No. I--I didn't go there."
"Why didn't you say so?" I demanded.
"Because I didn't want to," he returned sullenly. "You can go
there if you care to; I don't. It was from there that--it came."
I did not answer, but pushed forward, not, however, leaving the
wall. Perhaps it was cowardly; you are welcome to the word if you
care to use it. Myself, I know.
Another half-hour and we reached the end of the lane by which we
had first entered the cavern. We stood gazing at it with eyes of
desire, but we knew how little chance there was of the thing
being unguarded at the farther end. We knew then, of course, and
only too well, why the Incas had not followed us into the cavern.
"Perhaps they are gone," said Harry.


Pages:
280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304