t dismal place."

"Mos' horriboble," said Quashy, looking up at the vaulted roof.

"Ay, and it could tell many a dismal story if it had a tongue," said the
guide, as he busied himself arranging the saddles and baggage, and
making other preparations to spend the night as comfortably as
circumstances should permit. "Luckily there's a door this time."

"Is it sometimes without a door, then?" asked Lawrence, as he assisted
in the arrangements, while Quashy set about kindling a fire.

"Ay, the poor fellows who are sometimes stormstaid and starved here have
a tendency to use all they can find about the place for firewood. Some
one has replaced the door, however, since I was here last. You'll find
two big nails in the wall, Manuela," he added in Indian; "if you tie one
of the baggage cords to them, I'll give you a rug directly, which will
make a good screen to cut off your sleeping berth from ours."

In a short time Quashy had a bright little fire burning, with the kettle
on it stuffed full of fresh snow; the saddles and their furniture made
comfortable seats and lounges around it; and soon a savoury smell of
cooked meat rendered the cold air fragrant, while the cheery blaze
dispelled the gloom and made a wonderful change in the spirits of all.
Perhaps we should except the guide, whose calm, grave, stern yet kindly
aspect rarely underwent much change, either in the way of elation or
depression, whatever the surrounding circumstances might be. His
prevailing character reminded one of a rock, whether in the midst of a
calm or raging sea--or of a strong tower, whether surrounded by warring
elements or by profound calm. Need we say that Pedro's imperturbability
was by no means the result of apathy?

"Blow away till you bust your buzzum," said Quashy, apostrophising the
gale as he sat down with a beaming display of teeth and spread out his
hands before the blaze, after having advanced supper to a point which
admitted of a pause; "I don' care a butt'n how hard you blow now."

"Ah! Quashy," said the guide, shaking his head slowly, as, seated on
his saddle, he rolled up a neat cigarette, "don't be too confident. You
little know what sights these four walls have witnessed. True, this is
not quite the season when one runs much risk of being starved to death,
but the thing is not impossible."

"Surely," said Lawrence, stretching himself on his saddle-cloths and
glancing at Manuela, who was by that time seated on the opposi