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Under the Andes | Rex Stout | |
Captured |
Page 6 of 8 |
I closed my eyes to escape the darkness. It was maddening; easy enough then to comprehend the hysterics of the blind and sympathize with them. It finally reached a point where I was forced to grit my teeth to keep from breaking out into curses; I could lie still no longer, exhausted as I was, and Harry, too. I turned on him: "Come on, Hal; let's move." "Where?" he asked in a tone devoid of hope. "Anywhere--away from this beastly water. We must dry out our clothing; no use dying like drowned rats. If I only had a match!" We rose to our hands and knees and crawled painfully up the slippery incline. Soon we had reached dry ground and stood upright; then, struck by a sudden thought, I turned to Harry: "Didn't you drink any of that water?" He answered: "No." "Well, let's try it. It may be our last drink, Hal; make it a good one." We crept back down to the edge of the lake (I call it that in my ignorance of its real nature), and, settling myself as firmly as possible, I held Harry's hand while he lowered himself carefully into the water. He was unable to reach its surface with his mouth without letting go of my hand, and I shook off my poncho and used it as a line. "How does it taste?" I asked. "Fine!" was the response. "It must be clear as a bell. Lord. I didn't know I was so thirsty!" |
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