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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"


I called to Harry and pointed it out to him. He nodded vaguely,
as though in wonder that I should have troubled him about so
slight an object of interest, and crawled on.
But the white wall became whiter still, and soon I saw that it
was not a wall. A wild hope surged through me; I felt the blood
mount dizzily to my head, and I stilled the clamor that beat at
my temples by an extreme effort of the will. "It can't be," I
said to myself aloud, over and over; "it can't be, it can't be."
Harry turned, and his face was as white as when he had knelt by
the body of Desiree, and his eye was wild.
"You fool," he roared, "it is!"
We went faster then. Another hundred yards, and the thing was
certain; there it was before us. We scrambled to our feet and
tried to run; I reeled and fell, then picked myself up again and
followed Harry, who had not even halted as I had fallen. The
mouth of the passage was now but a few feet away; I reached
Harry's side, blinking and stunned with amazement and the
incredible wonder of it.
I tried to shout, to cry aloud to the heavens, but a great lump
in my throat choked me and my head was singing dizzily.


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