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Under the Andes | Rex Stout | |
A Fishing Party |
Page 5 of 9 |
Suddenly I saw a dark, crouching form outlined against a boulder not ten feet away from where I stood. The form was human, but in some way unlike the Incas I had seen. I could not see its face, but the alertness suggested by its attitude made me certain that I had been discovered. Vaguely I felt myself surrounded on every side; I seemed to feel eyes gazing unseen from every direction, but I could not force myself to search the darkness; my heart rose to my throat and choked me, and I stood absolutely powerless to make a sound or movement, gazing in a sort of dumb fascination at that silent, crouching figure. Suddenly it crouched lower still against the black background of the boulder. "Another second and he will be at my throat," I thought--but I stood still, unable to move. But the figure did not spring. Instead, it suddenly straightened up to almost twice the height of an Inca, and I caught a glimpse of a white face and ragged, clinging garments. "Harry!" I whispered. I wonder yet that it was not a shout. "Thank God!" came his voice, also in a whisper; and in another moment he had reached my side. A hurried word or two--there was no time for more--and I pointed to the Incas on the raft, saying: "We want those spears." "I was after them," he grinned. "What shall we do?" "There's no use taking them while the Incas are away," I replied, "because they would soon return and find them gone. Surely we can handle two of them." |
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