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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


Harry let out a string of oaths, and I seconded him. Twenty
minutes wasted, and another twenty to return!
There was nothing else for it. We shouldered our spears and
started to retrace our steps.
"No use running now," I declared. "We can't keep it up forever,
and we may as well save our strength. We'll never catch up with
'em, but we may find 'em."
Harry, striding ahead two or three paces in front, did not
answer.
Finally we reached the cavern from which we had started.
"And now what?" asked Harry in a tone of the most utter
dejection.
I pointed to the exit in the middle. "That! We should have
taken it in the first place. On the raft we probably descended
altogether something like five hundred feet from the level where
we started--possibly twice that distance. And this passage which
slopes upward will probably take us back."
"At least, it's as good as the other," Harry agreed; and we
entered it.
We had not proceeded far before we found ourselves in
difficulties. The gentle slope became a steep incline. Great
rocks loomed up in our path.
In spots the passage was so narrow that two men could hardly have
walked abreast through it, and its walls were rough and
irregular, with sharp points projecting unexpectedly into our
very faces.


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