Then, having filled ourselves with raw fish and a last hearty
drink from the lake, we each took a spear and started on a search
wilder than any ever undertaken by Amadis of Gaul or Don Quixote
himself. Even the Bachelor of Salamanca, in his saddest plight,
did not present so outrageous an appearance to the eye as we. We
wore more clothing than the Incas, which is the most that can be
said for us.
We were unable to even guess at the direction we should take;
but that was settled for us when we found that there were but two
exits from the cavern. One led through the boulders and crevices
to a passage full of twists and turns and strewn with rocks, almost
impassable; the other was that through which the Incas had entered.
We chose the latter.
Fifty feet from the cavern we found ourselves in darkness. I
stopped short.
"Harry, this is impossible. We cannot mark our way."
"But what can we do?"
"Carry one of those urns."
"Likely! They'd spot us before we even got started."
"Well--let them."
"No. You're in for the finish. I know that. I want to find
Desiree. And we'll find her. After that, if nothing else is left,
I'll be with you."
"But I don't want a thousand of those brutes falling on us in
the dark. If they would end it I wouldn't care."
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