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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

He was not a man,
but a demon possessed.
"Go on," he shouted. "I'll make it!"
Then I turned and ran with Desiree to the wall. We followed it a
short distance before we reached one of the lanes of which Harry
had spoken; at its entrance he joined us, still bidding us to
leave him to cover our retreat.
Once within the narrow lane his task was easier. Boulders and
projecting rocks obstructed our progress, but they were even
greater obstacles to those who pursued us. Still they rushed
forward, only to be hurled back by the point of Harry's spear.
Once, turning, I saw him pick one of them up bodily and toss him
whirling through the air into the very faces of his comrades.
I had all I could do with Desiree and myself. Many times I
scrambled up the steep face of some boulder and, after pulling
her up safely after me, let her down again on the other side.
Then I returned to see that Harry got over safely, and often he
made it barely by inches, while flying spears struck the rock on
every side.
It is a wonder to me now that I was able even to stand, after my
experience on the spiral stairway in the column. The soles of my
feet and the palms of my hands were baked black as the Incas
themselves.


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