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Under the Andes | Rex Stout | |
Before The Court |
Page 7 of 8 |
Breakfast was hilarious. Harry sang an old drinking-song to the water-basin with touching sentiment; I gave him hearty applause and joined in the chorus. The cavern rang. "The last time I sang that," said Harry as the last echoes died away, "was at the Midlothian. Bunk Stafford was there, and Billy Du Mont, and Fred Marston--I say, do you remember Freddie? And his East Side crocodiles? "My, but weren't they daisies? And polo? They could play it in their sleep. And--what's this? Paul! Something's up! Here they come--Mr. and Mrs. Inca and all the children!" I sprang hastily to my feet and stood by Harry's side. He was right. Through the half darkness they came, hundreds of them, and, as always, in utter silence. Dimly we could see their forms huddled together round us on every side, leaving us in the center of a small circle in their midst. "Now, what the deuce do they want?" I muttered. "Can't they let us eat in peace?" Harry observed: "Wasn't I right? 'Most awful vile!'" I think we both felt that we were joking in the face of death. The forms surrounding us stood silent for perhaps ten seconds. Then four of their number stepped forward to us, and one made gestures with a hairy arm, pointing to our rear. We turned and saw a narrow lane lined on either side by our captors. Nothing was distinct; still we could see well enough to guess their meaning. "It's up to us to march," said Harry. I nodded. "And step high, Hal; it may be our last one. If we only had our knives! But there are thousands of 'em." "But if it comes to the worst--" "Then--I'm with you. Forward!" |
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Under the Andes Rex Stout |
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