man having to tell me how to
do it. I stood it all patiently though, for the sake of what was coming,
and a high old time I had in Naples that day, I can tell you.

I nearly missed my train back, catching it only by the skin of my teeth,
and when I reached Castellamare I bargained with a driver-fellow to take
me to Sorrento for seven francs. He could speak English a bit. The mater
had told me the fare for a carriage and two mules would be eight or ten
francs; but I soon let him see that I wasn't going to be put on like
that, and as I was firm he had to come down to seven, and a _pourboire_,
which is what we call a tip. So, ordering him to wake his mules up and
drive quick, for the January afternoon was getting on, I settled down
thoroughly to enjoy the ride home.

I have already told you how the road follows the coast-line, high up the
cliffs, so that you look down hundreds of feet, almost sheer on to the
waves dashing against the rocks below. There's nothing but a low wall to
prevent you pitching bang over and dashing yourself to bits, if you had
an accident. There are two or three villages between Castellamare and
Sorrento, and generally a lot of traffic; but, as it happened, we
didn't pass or meet much that afternoon; I suppose because it was
getting late.

The driver was chattering like a magpie about the swell villas and
places we could see here and there white against the dark trees, but I
wasn't paying much attention, and at last he shut up.

There's one bit of the road which always gave me the creeps, for it's
where a man cut his son's throat and threw him over the cliff, two or
three years ago, for the sake of his insurance money. I was thinking
about this, and almost wishing some one was with me after all--for there
wasn't a soul in sight--when my heart gave a jump as the driver
suddenly, at this very bit, pulled up, and, turning round, said with a
fiendish grin--

"You pay me 'leven francs for ze drive, signor."

"Eleven? No, seven. You said seven."

"Signor meestakes. 'Leven francs, signor," and he opened the dirty
fingers of his left hand twice, and held up a thumb that looked as if it
hadn't been washed since he was born.

"Seven," I firmly replied. "Not a centime more. Drive on!"

"Ze signor will pay 'leven francs," he fiercely persisted, "seven for ze
driver and four for ze cicerone, ze guide."

"What guide? I've had no guide."

"Me, signor. I am ze guide. 'Ave I not been telling of ze beaut