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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


AFLOAT.

As we ran swiftly, following the edge of the stream, the cries
continued, filling the cavern with racing echoes. They could not
quicken our step; we were already straining every muscle as we
bounded over the rock. Luckily, the way was clear, for in the
darkness we could see but a few feet ahead. Desiree's voice was
sufficient guide for us.
Finally we reached her. I don't know what I expected to see, but
certainly not that which met our eyes.
"Your spear!" cried Harry, dashing off to the right, away from
the stream.
My spear was ready. I followed.
Desiree was standing exactly in the spot where we had left her,
screaming at the top of her voice.
Around her, on every side, was a struggling, pushing mass of the
animals we had frightened away from the carcass of the reptile.
There were hundreds of them packed tightly together, crowding
toward her, some leaping on the backs of others, some trampled to
the ground beneath the feet of their fellows. They did not appear
to be actually attacking her, but we could not see distinctly.
This we saw in a flash and an instant later had dashed forward
into the mass with whirling spears.


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