at you can get down without trouble."

It was really very laughable to watch the doctor's face as the major
prepared to descend.

"He will be killed," said he dolefully. "It is a clear case of
suicide. Look, he has missed his foothold, and will be dashed to
pieces!"

"Nonsense," I said, with a laugh; "there is no danger if you don't
think about it. See, it is nothing but going down a flight of steps
backwards." But he covered his face with his hands and shuddered.

When the major had reached the ground, I grasped the rope, saying,--

"Farewell, doctor; I hope you will have a comfortable time. And don't
worry about coming down; you'll find it an easy matter enough."

"Good-bye," answered he gloomily; "I shall never see you or any one
else again. I shall die up here for certain."

The fellow was so genuinely frightened that I assured him we would
devise some plan to rescue him; on which he brightened up considerably,
and I began the descent. I asked the guide where he had left the
horses.

"At the village, senor," he replied, "on the other side of the
mountain."

In answer to a further question, he told us that the doctor would not
cross the narrow track, and that they had, in consequence, been
compelled to travel many miles out of their way.

"I think he was right," exclaimed Santiago, when we reached the spot.
"This is a far worse venture than climbing to the cavern by the rope."

And indeed, seen in broad daylight, with every rock standing out
pitilessly clear, and every chasm yawning wide, the place was enough to
daunt the spirit of the bravest.

Familiarity had rendered the guide indifferent to the danger, but I
felt as nervous as when crossing the previous evening. However, I
could not make a parade of my anxiety, so I set foot on the narrow path
with a jaunty air but quaking heart. Santiago smiled too, but I fancy
he was by no means sorry when we gained the farther side without
accident. Then we jested about the past danger, talking lightly and as
if it were an affair of no moment. Nevertheless, I was thankful the
heat of the sun provided an excuse for the perspiration that streamed
down my face.

CHAPTER X.

A STORMY INTERVIEW.

On our march to the town, Santiago assumed a light-hearted carelessness
that was far from his real feelings. He laughed merrily, made joking
remarks, and behaved generally as if the prospect of a spell of prison
life was most agreeable. This was, of c