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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


"What is it?" she cried, and for answer--though I strained every
atom of my will and strength to prevent it--I toppled to the
ground, dragging her with me.
What followed came to me as in a dream, though I was not wholly
unconscious. I was aware that Harry and Desiree were bending over
me; then I felt my head and shoulders being lifted from the
ground, and a soft, warm arm supporting me.
A minute passed, or an hour--I did not know--and I felt hot drops
of moisture fall on my cheek. I struggled to open my eyes, and
saw Desiree's face quite near my own; my head was resting on her
shoulder. She was weeping silently, and great tears rolled down
her cheeks unrestrained.
To have seen the sun or stars shining down upon me would not have
astonished me more. I gazed at her a long moment in silence; she
saw that I did so, but made no effort to turn her head or avoid
my gaze. Finally I found my tongue.
"Where is Harry?" I asked.
"He is gone to look for water," she replied; and, curiously
enough, her voice was quite steady.
I smiled.
"It is useless. I am done for!"
"That isn't true," she denied, in a voice almost of anger.


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