been able to see before, I saw what appeared to be a white wall
extending directly across our path.

I called to Harry and pointed it out to him. He nodded vaguely, as
though in wonder that I should have troubled him about so slight an
object of interest, and crawled on.

But the white wall became whiter still, and soon I saw that it was not
a wall. A wild hope surged through me; I felt the blood mount dizzily
to my head, and I stilled the clamor that beat at my temples by an
extreme effort of the will. "It can't be," I said to myself aloud,
over and over; "it can't be, it can't be."

Harry turned, and his face was as white as when he had knelt by the
body of Desiree, and his eye was wild.

"You fool," he roared, "it is!"

We went faster then. Another hundred yards, and the thing was certain;
there it was before us. We scrambled to our feet and tried to run; I
reeled and fell, then picked myself up again and followed Harry, who
had not even halted as I had fallen. The mouth of the passage was now
but a few feet away; I reached Harry's side, blinking and stunned with
amazement and the incredible wonder of it.

I tried to shout, to cry aloud to the heavens, but a great lump in my
throat choked me and my head was singing dizzily.

Harry, at my side, was crying like a child, with great tears streaming
down his face, as together we staggered forth from the mouth of the
passage into the bright and dazzling sunshine of the Andes.

Chapter XXIV.

CONCLUSION.

Never, I believe, were misery and joy so curiously mingled in the human
breast as when Harry and I stood--barely able to stand--gazing
speechlessly at the world that had so long been hidden from us.

We had found the light, but had lost Desiree. We were alive, but so
near to death that our first breath of the mountain air was like to be
our last.

The details of our painful journey down the mountain, over the rocks
and crags, and through rushing torrents that more than once swept us
from our feet, cannot be written, for I do not know them.

The memory of the thing is but an indistinct nightmare of suffering.
But the blind luck that seemed to have fallen over our shoulders as a
protecting mantle at the death of Desiree stayed with us; and after
endless hours of incredible toil and labor, we came to a narrow pass
leading at right angles to our course.

Night was ready to fall over the bleak and barren mountain as we
entered it. Darkness had long