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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

Blisters covered my body from head to foot, swelling,
indescribably painful.
Every step I took made me clench my teeth to keep from sinking in
a faint to the ground; I expected always that the next would be
my last--but somehow I struggled onward. It was the thought of
Desiree, I think, that held me up, and Harry.
Suddenly a shout came from Harry that the Incas had abandoned the
pursuit. It struck me almost as a matter of indifference; nor was
I affected when almost immediately afterward he called that he
had been mistaken and that they had rushed forward with renewed
fury and in greater numbers.
"It is only a matter of time now," I said to Desiree, and she
nodded.
Still we went forward. The land had carried us straight away
from the cavern, without a turn. Its walls were the roughest I
had seen, and often a boulder which lay across our path presented
a serrated face that looked as though it had but just been broken
from the wall above. Still the stone was comparatively soft--time
had not yet worked its leveling finger on the surfaces that
surrounded us.
We were standing on one of these boulders when Harry came running
toward us.


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