Under the Andes

by Rex Stout

  Chapter VI.

  CAPTURED.

  The fall--was it ten feet or a thousand? I shall never know. Hurtlingheadlong through space, a man can scarcely be expected to keep his witsabout him.

  Actually, my only impression was of righteous indignation; my memory isthat I cursed aloud, but Harry denies it.

  But it could not have been for long, for when we struck the water atthe bottom we were but slightly stunned by the impact. To this Harryhas since agreed; he must have been as lucky as myself, for I took itheadlong with a clean cleavage.

  I rose to the top, sputtering, and flung out my arms in the attempt toswim--or, rather, to keep afloat--and was overjoyed to find my arms andlegs answer to the call of the brain.

  About me was blackest night and utter silence, save a low, unbrokenmurmur, unlike any other sound, hardly to be heard. It was in myeffort to account for it that I first became aware of the fact that thewater was a stream, and a moving one--moving with incredible swiftness,smooth and all but silent. As soon as I became convinced of this Igave up all attempt to swim, and satisfied myself with keeping my headabove the surface and drifting with the current.

  Then I thought of Harry, and called his name aloud many times. Thereverberations throughout the cave were as the report of a thousandcannon; but there was no response.

  The echoes became fainter and fainter and died away, and again all wassilence and impenetrable night, while I battled with the strong suctionof the unseen current, which was growing swifter and swifter, and feltmy strength begin to leave me.

  Terror, too, began to call to me as the long minutes passed endlesslyby. I thought, "If I could only see!" and strained my eyes in theeffort till I was forced to close them from the dizzy pain. The utter,complete darkness hid from me all knowledge of what I passed or whatawaited me beyond.

  The water, carrying me swiftly onward with its silent, remorselesssweep, was cold and black; it pressed with tremendous power against me;now and then I was forced beneath the surface and fought my way back,gasping and all but exhausted.

  I forgot Desiree and Harry; I lost all consciousness of where I was andwhat I was doing; the silent fury of the stream and the awful blacknessmaddened me; I plunged and struggled desperately, blindly, sobbing withrage. This could not have lasted much longer; I was very near the end.

  Suddenly, with a thrill of joy, I realized that the speed of thecurrent was decreasing. Then a reaction of despair seized me; I triedto strangle hope and resign myself to the worst. But soon there was nolonger any doubt; the water carried me slower and slower.

  I floated with little difficulty, wondering--could it be an approach toa smaller outlet which acted as a dam? Or was it merely a lessening ofthe incline of the bed of the stream? I cursed the darkness for myhelplessness.

  Finally the water became absolutely still, as I judged by the absenceof pressure on my body, and I turned sharply at a right angle and beganto swim. My weariness left me as by magic, and I struck out with boldand sweeping strokes; and by that lack of caution all but destroyedmyself when my head suddenly struck against a wall of stone, unseen inthe darkness.

  I was stunned completely and sank; but the ducking revived me; and whenI returned to the surface I swam a few careful strokes, searching forthe wall. It was not there, and I had no idea of its direction. But Ihad now learned caution; and by swimming a few feet first one way, thenanother, and taking care not to go far in any one direction, I finallydiscovered it.

  My hand easily reached the top, and, grasping the slippery surface witha grip made firm by despair, and concentrating every ounce of strengthin one final effort, I drew myself out of the water and fell completelyexhausted on the ground.

  Under such circumstances time has no place in a man's calculations; heis satisfied to breathe. I believe that I lay barely conscious forseveral hours, but it may have been merely as many minutes. Then Ifelt life stir within me; I stretched my arms and legs and sat up.Gradually entered my mind the thought of Desiree and Harry and theAndes above and Felipe shuddering with terror as he flew from the caveof the devil.

  First came Harry; but hope did not enter. It was inconceivable thathe, too, should have escaped that fearful torrent; stupendous luckalone had saved me from being dashed senseless against the rocks andguided me to the ledge on which I rested.

  Then he was gone! I had no thought of my own peril. I had gonethrough the world with but little regard for what it held; nothing hadbeen sacred to me; no affection had been more than a day's caprice; Ihad merely sucked amusement from its bitter fruit.

  But I loved Harry; I realized it with something like astonishment. Hewas dear to me; a keen, intense pain contracted my chest at the thoughtof having lost him; tears filled my eyes; and I raised up my voice andsang out wildly:

  "Harry! Harry, lad! Harry!"

  The cavern resounded. The call went from wall to wall, then backagain, floating through black space with a curious tremor, and finallydied away in some dim, unseen corridor. And then--then came ananswering call!

  Owing to the conflicting echoes of the cavern, the tone could not berecognized. But the word was unmistakable; it was "Paul."

  I sprang to my feet with a shout, then stood listening. Out of theblackness surrounding me came the words, in Harry's voice, much lower,but distinct:

  "Paul! Paul, where are you?"

  "Thank Heaven!" I breathed; and I answered:

  "Here, Harry boy, here."

  "But where?"

  "I don't know. On a ledge of rock at the edge of the water. Where areyou?"

  "Same place. Which side are you on?"

  "The right side," I answered with heartfelt emphasis. "That is to say,the outside. If it weren't for this infernal darkness--Listen! Howfar away does my voice sound?"

  But the innumerable echoes of the cavern walls made it impossible tojudge of distance by sound. We tried it over and over; sometimes itseemed that we were only a few feet apart, sometimes a mile or more.

  Then Harry spoke in a whisper, and his voice appeared to be directly inmy ear. Never have I seen a night so completely black as that cavern;we had had several hours, presumably, for our eyes to adjust themselvesto the phenomenon; but when I held my hand but six inches in front ofmy face I could not get even the faintest suggestion of its outline.

  "This is useless," I declared finally. "We must experiment. Harry!"

  "Yes."

  "Turn to your left and proceed carefully along the edge. I'll turn tomy right. Go easy, lad; feel your way."

  I crawled on my hands and knees, no faster than a snail, feeling everyinch of the ground. The surface was wet and slippery, and in placessloped at an angle that made me hang on for dear life to keep fromshooting off into space.

  Meantime I kept calling to Harry and he to me; but, on account of ourpainfully slow progress, it was half an hour or more before wediscovered that the distance between us was being increased instead oflessened.

  He let fly an oath at this, and his tone was dangerous; no wonder ifthe lad was half crazed! I steadied him as well as I could with wordof encouragement, and instructed him to turn about and proceed to theright of his original position. I, also, turned to the left.

  Our hope of meeting lay in the probability that the ledge surrounded acircular body of water and was continuous. At some point, of course,was the entrance of the stream which had carried us, and at some otherpoint there was almost certainly an outlet; but we trusted to luck toavoid these. Our chances were less than one in a thousand; but,failing that, some other means must be invented.

  The simplest way would have been for me to take to the water and swimacross to Harry, counting on his voice as a guide; but the conflictingechoes produced by the slightest sound rendered such an attemptdangerous.

  I crept along that wet, slimy, treacherous surface, it seemed, forhours. I could see nothing--absolutely nothing; everything was blackvoid; it was hard to appreciate reality in such a nightmare. On theone side, nameles
s dangers; on the other, the unseen, bottomless lake;enough, surely, to take a man's nerve. My fear for Harry killedanxiety on my own account. We kept continually calling:

  "Harry!"

  "Yes."

  "Steady."

  "Yes. I'm coming along. I say, we're closer, Paul."

  I hesitated to agree with him, but finally there was no longer anydoubt of it. His voice began to reach me almost in natural tones,which meant that we were near enough for the vibrations to carrywithout interference from the walls.

  Nearer still it came; it was now only a matter of a few feet; Harrygave a cry of joy, and immediately afterward I heard his low gasp ofterror and the sound of his wild scrambling to regain a foothold. Inhis excitement he had forgotten caution and had slipped to the edge ofthe water.

  I dared not try to go to his assistance; so I crouched perfectly stilland called to him to throw himself flat on his face. How my eyesstrained despairingly as I cursed the pitiless darkness! Then thescrambling ceased and the boy's voice sounded:

  "All right, Paul! All right! Gad, I nearly went!"

  A minute later I held his hand in mine. At that point the incline wasat a sharp angle, and we lay flat on our backs. For many minutes welay silently gripping hands; Harry was trembling violently from nervousfatigue, and I myself was unable to speak.

  What strength is there in companionship! Alone, either of us wouldprobably have long before succumbed to the strain of our horriblesituation; but we both took hope and courage from that hand-clasp.

  Finally he spoke:

  "In Heaven's name, where are we, Paul?"

  "You know as much as I do, Harry. This cursed darkness makes itimpossible even to guess at anything. According to Felipe, we arebeing entertained by the devil."

  "But where are we? What happened? My head is dizzy--I don't know--"

  I gripped his hand.

  "And no wonder. 'Tis hardly an every-day occurrence to ride anunderground river several miles under the Andes. Above us a mountainfour miles high, beneath us a bottomless lake, round us darkness. Nota very cheerful prospect, Hal; but, thank Heaven, we take it together!It is a grave--ours and hers. I guess Desiree knew what she wastalking about."

  There came a cry from Harry's lips--a cry of painful memory:

  "Desiree! I had forgotten, Desiree!"

  "She is probably better off than we are," I assured him.

  I felt his gaze--I could not see it--and I continued:

  "We may as well meet the thing squarely like men. Pull yourselftogether, Harry; as for Desiree, let us hope that she is dead. It'sthe best thing that could happen to her."

  "Then we are--no, it isn't possible."

  "Harry boy, we're buried alive! There! That's the worst of it.Anything better than that is velvet."

  "But there must be a way out, Paul! And Desiree--Desiree--"

  His voice faltered. I clapped him roughly on the shoulder.

  "Keep your nerve. As for a way out--at the rate that stream descendsit must have carried us thousands of feet beneath the mountain. Thereis probably a mile of solid rock between us and the sunshine. You feltthe strength of that current; you might as well try to swim up Niagara."

  "But there must be an outlet at the other end."

  "Yes, and most probably forty or fifty miles away--that's the distanceto the western slope. Besides, how can we find it? And there may benone. The water is most probably gradually absorbed by the porousformation of the rocks, and that is what causes this lake."

  "But why isn't it known? Felipe said that the cave had been explored.Why didn't they discover the stream?"

  Well, it was better to talk of that than nothing; at least, it keptHarry from his childish cries for Desiree. So I explained that theprecipice over which we had fallen was presumably of recent origin.

  Geologically the Andes are yet in a chaotic and formative condition;huge slides of Silurian slates and diorite are of frequent occurrence.A ridge of one of these softer stones had most probably been encased inthe surrounding granite for many centuries; then, loosened by water orby time, had crumbled and slid into the stream below.

  "And," I finished, "we followed it."

  "Then we may find another," said Harry hopefully.

  I agreed that it was possible. Then he burst out:

  "In the name of Heaven, don't be so cool! We can't get out till wetry. Come! And who knows--we may find Desiree."

  Then I decided it was best to tell him. Evidently the thought had notentered his mind, and it was best for him to realize the worst. Igripped his hand tighter as I said:

  "Nothing so pleasant, Harry. Because we're going to starve to death."

  "Starve to death?" he exclaimed. Then he added simply, with an oddlypathetic tone: "I hadn't thought of that."

  After that we lay silent for many minutes in that awful darkness.Thoughts and memories came and went in my brain with incredibleswiftness; pictures long forgotten presented themselves; an endless,jumbled panorama. They say that a drowning man reviews his past lifein the space of a few seconds; it took me a little more time, but thejob was certainly a thorough one. Nor did I find it more interestingin retrospect than it had been in reality.

  I closed my eyes to escape the darkness. It was maddening; easy enoughthen 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 keepfrom breaking out into curses; I could lie still no longer, exhaustedas 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 slipperyincline. 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 goodone."

  We crept back down to the edge of the lake (I call it that in myignorance of its real nature), and, settling myself as firmly aspossible, I held Harry's hand while he lowered himself carefully intothe water. He was unable to reach its surface with his mouth withoutletting 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. Ididn't know I was so thirsty!"

  I was not ignorant of the fact that there was an excellent chance ofthe water being unhealthful, possibly poisoned, what with the tertiarydeposits of copper ores in the rock-basins; but the thought awakenedhope rather than fear. There is a choice even in death.

  But when I had pulled Harry up and descended myself I soon found thatthere was no danger--or chance. The water had a touch of alkali, butnothing more.

  Then we crept back up the wet ledge, and once more stood on dry ground.

  The surface was perfectly level, and we set off at a brisk pace, handin hand, directly away from the lake. But when, about a hundred yardsoff, we suddenly bumped our heads against a solid wall of rock, wedecided to proceed with more caution.

  The darkness was intensified, if anything. We turned to the right andgroped along the wall, which was smooth as glass and higher than mybest reach. It seemed to the touch to be slightly convex, but that mayhave been delusion.

  We had proceeded in this manner some hundred yards or more, advancingcautiously, when we came to a break in the wall. A few feet fartherthe wall began again.

  "It's a tunnel," said Harry.

  I nodded, forgetting he could not see me. "Shall we take it?"

  "Anything on a chance," he answered, and we entered the passage.

  It was quite narrow--so narrow that we were forced to advance veryslowly, feeling our way to avoid colliding with the walls. The groundwas strewn with fragments
of rock, and a hasty step meant an almostcertain fall and a bruised shin. It was tedious work and incrediblyfatiguing.

  We had not rested a sufficient length of time to allow our bodies torecuperate from the struggle with the torrent; also, we began to feelthe want of food. Harry was the first to falter, but I spurred him on.Then he stumbled and fell and lay still.

  "Are you hurt?" I asked anxiously, bending over him.

  "No," was the answer. "But I'm tired--tired to death--and I want tosleep."

  I was tempted myself, but I brought him to his feet, from some impulseI know not what. For what was the use? One spot was as good asanother. However, we struggled on.

  Another hour and the passage broadened into a clearing. At least so itseemed; the walls abruptly parted to the right and left. And still theimpenetrable, maddening darkness and awful silence!

  We gave it up; we could go no farther. A few useless minutes wewasted, searching for a soft spot to lie on--moss, reeds, anything. Wefound none, of course; but even the hard, unyielding rock was gratefulto our exhausted bodies. We lay side by side, using our ponchos forpillows; our clothing at least was dry.

  I do not know how long I slept, but it seemed to me that I had barelydozed off when I was awakened by something--what?

  There was no sound to my strained ears. I sat up, gazing intently intothe darkness, shuddering without apparent reason. Then I reflectedthat nothing is dangerous to a man who faces death, and I laughedaloud--then trembled at the sound of my own voice. Harry was in soundsleep beside me; his regular breathing told of its depth.

  Again I lay down, but I could not sleep. Some instinct, longforgotten, quivered within me, telling me that we were no longer alone.And soon my ear justified it.

  At first it was not a sound, but the mere shadow of one. It wasrhythmic, low, beating like a pulse. What could it be? Again I satup, listening and peering into the darkness. And this time I was notmistaken--there was a sound, rustling, sibilant.

  Little by little it increased, or rather approached, until it soundedbut a few feet from me on every side, sinister and menacing. It wasthe silent, suppressed breathing of something living--whether animal orman--creeping ever nearer.

  Then was the darkness doubly horrible. I sat paralyzed with my utterhelplessness, though fear, thank Heaven, did not strike me! I couldhear no footstep; no sound of any kind but that low, rushing breathing;but it now was certain that whatever the thing was, it was not alone.

  From every side I heard it--closer, closer--until finally I felt thehot, fetid breath in my very face. My nerves quivered in disgust, notfar from terror.

  I sprang to my feet with a desperate cry to Harry and swung toward him.

  There was no answering sound, no rush of feet, nothing; but I felt mythroat gripped in monstrous, hairy fingers.

  I tried to struggle, and immediately was crushed to the ground by theoverpowering weight of a score of soft, ill-smelling bodies.

  The grasp on my throat tightened; my arms relaxed, my brain reeled, andI knew no more.