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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

Harry and Desiree had apparently not noticed the fact,
and I said nothing of it. Time enough when they should find out
for themselves; and besides, there was still a chance, though a
slim one.
Soon the bed of the stream became nearly level, for we barely
moved. The roof of the tunnel was very low--but a scant foot
above our heads as we sat or crouched on the raft. It was
necessary to keep a sharp lookout ahead; a rock projecting from
above would have swept us into the water.
The air, too, was close and foul; our breath became labored and
difficult; and Desiree, half stifled and drowsy, passed into a
fitful and broken sleep, stirring restlessly and panting for air.
Harry had taken the bow and I lay across the stern. Suddenly his
voice came, announcing that we had left the tunnel.
I sat up quickly and looked round. The walls were no longer to
be seen; we had evidently entered a cavern similar to the one in
which we had embarked.
"Shall we lay off?" I asked, stepping across to Harry's side.
He assented, and I took the oar and worked the raft over to the
left. There was but little current and she went well in. In a few
minutes we were in shallow water, and Harry and I jumped off and
shoved her to the bank.


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