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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

"
We turned then and retraced our steps to our camp, if I may give
it so dignified a title. I hated to give up the idea of following
the bed of the stream, for it was certain that somewhere it found
the surface of the earth, and I revolved in my brain every
conceivable means to do so. The same thought was in Harry's mind,
for he turned to me suddenly:
"If we only had something for stringers, I could make a raft that
would carry us to the Pacific and across it. The hide of that
thing over yonder would be just the stuff, and we could get a
piece as big as we wanted."
I shook my head.
"I thought of that. But we have absolutely nothing to hold it.
There wasn't a bone in his body; you know that."
But the idea was peculiarly tempting, and we spent an hour
discussing it. Desiree was asleep on her pile of skins. We sat
side by side on the ground some distance away, talking in low
tones.
Suddenly there was a loud splash in the stream, which was quite
close to us.
"By gad!" exclaimed Harry, springing to his feet. "Did you hear
that? It sounded like--remember the fish we pulled in from the
Inca's raft?"
"Which has nothing to do with this," I answered.


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