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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


Which shows that a man does not always appreciate a blessing. It
was not long before we were offering up thanks that our speed had
been so slight.
To be exact, about an hour, as well as I could measure time,
which passed slowly; for not only were the minutes tedious, but
the foulness of the air made them also extremely uncomfortable.
Desiree was again lying down, half-unconscious but not asleep,
for now and then she spoke drowsily. Harry complained of a
dizziness in the head, and my own seemed ready to burst through
my temples. The soroche of the mountains was agreeable compared
to that.
Suddenly the swiftness of the current increased appreciably on
the instant; there was a swift jerk as we were carried forward. I
rose to my knees--the tunnel was too low to permit of
standing--and gazed intently ahead. I could see nothing save that
the stream had narrowed to half its former width, and was still
becoming narrower.
We went faster and faster, and the stream narrowed until the bank
was but a few feet away on either side.
"Watch the stern!" I called to Harry. "Keep her off with your
spear!"
Then a wall loomed up directly ahead.


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