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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


The current was not nearly so swift as I had expected it would
be. In the semidarkness it was difficult to calculate our rate of
speed, but I judged that we were moving at about six or seven
miles an hour.
We had gone perhaps three miles when we came to a sharp bend in
the stream, to the left, almost at a right angle. Harry, at the
bow, was supposed to be on the lookout, but he failed to see it
until we were already caught in its whirl.
Then he gave a cry of alarm, and together we swung the raft to
the left, avoiding the right bank of the curve by less than a
foot. Once safely past, I sent Harry to the stern and took the
bow myself, which brought down upon him a deal of keen banter
from Desiree.
There the tunnel widened, and the raft began to glide easily
onward, without any of its sudden dashes to right or left. I
rested on my oar, gazing intently ahead; at the best I could make
out the walls a hundred yards ahead, and but dimly. All was
silence, save the gentle swish of the water against the sides of
the raft and the patter of Harry's oar dipping idly on one side
or the other.
Suddenly Desiree's voice came through the silence, soft and very
low:
"Pendant une anne' toute entiere,
Le regiment na Pas r'paru.


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