Harry and I sprang forward with a shout of warning; Desiree stood
motionless as a statue. We grasped her frantically and pulled her
back, but too late.
She came, but only to fall lifeless into our arms with the spear
buried deep in her white throat.
We laid her on the ground and knelt beside her for a moment, then
Harry arose to his feet with a face white as death; and I uttered
a silent and vengeful prayer as I saw him level a spear at the
Inca king across the chasm. But it went wide of its mark,
striking the ground at his feet.
"There was another!" cried Harry, and soon he had found it where
it lay on the ground and sent it, too, hurtling across.
This time he missed by inches. The spear flew just past the
shoulder of the king and caught one who stood behind him full in
the face. The stricken savage threw his arms spasmodically above
his head, reeling forward against the king.
There was a startled movement along the black line; hands were
outstretched in a vain effort at rescue; a savage cry burst from
Harry's lips, and the next instant the king had toppled over the
edge of the chasm and fallen into the bottomless pit below.
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