It was of
soft limestone, and most probably the portion that had
disappeared was granite, carried away by the force of its own
weight.
"We are like to be buried," I observed, returning to Harry and
Desiree. "Though for that matter, even that can hardly frighten
us now."
"For my part," said Harry, with a curious gravity beneath the
apparent lightness of his words, "I have always admired the death
of Porthos. Let it come, and welcome."
"Are we to go further?" put in Desiree.
Just as Harry opened his mouth to reply a more decisive answer
came from another source. The rock that had fallen, obstructing
the path of the Incas, must have left an opening that Harry had
missed; or they had removed it--what matter?
In some way they had forced a passage, for as Desiree spoke a
dozen spears whistled through the air past our heads and we
looked up to see a swarm of Incas climbing and tumbling down the
face of a boulder over which we had passed to reach our
resting-place.
I have said that we had halted in a level, unbroken stretch that
still led some distance ahead of us. At its farther end could be
seen a group of rocks and boulders completely choking the lane,
Beyond, other rocks arose to a still greater height--the way
appeared to be impassable.
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