l
wrong. They show a great burst of smoke and flame, and huge rocks
shooting up out of the crater. I supposed a volcano was a sort of
perpetual 'Fourth of July.'"

"Fourdth of Yuly! how mean you?"

"Oh, fireworks and explosions! but that little white funnel of
steam--well, it's a disappointment!"

"You vill zee dthree volcano near Guatemala; dthey air dthe 'spirits'
of dthe place--call in Eenglish 'Air,' 'Fire' and 'Vater.' Zee on
dthis leedle coin dthey haf all dthree mountains on dthe back."

"Why, what's the matter with your hands?" I say, taking the coin.

"All dthose burrs on your dress make bleed," he says, looking a bit
ruefully at his finger-tips, sore and red, and one stained a little
where some obstinate briar or needle has drawn the blood.

"Oh! what a shame!" I take the shapely hand in mine and look
compassionately at the hurt fingers.

"I feel it not, Blanca, vhen you hold it so!"

I drop the hand, instinctively steeling myself against all show of
sympathy with this boyish sentimentalism.

"It should teach you a lesson. You take too much care of your hands;
they are whiter and softer than most women's--such hands are good for
nothing."

"I vill show you you can be meestake." His face is quite changed, and
there's something dimly threatening in the deep eyes.

"When will you show me?" I say, affecting a carelessness I do not
quite feel.

"Perhaps in Guatemala." I leave that side of the platform and lean out
over the other. "Come back, Blanca; it ees not zafe!"

His tone is entirely too dictatorial. I close my hand firmly round the
iron rail and lean out further still. At that instant, as ill-luck
would have it, the train encounters some obstruction on the track,
something is struck, and there is a jolt and concussion. Before I
have time to recover myself I feel my hand wrested from the iron, and
a powerful arm is closed around me, but instead of being drawn back, I
am held out in the very position I myself had taken. Bewildered and
frightened, I give one scream "on account" and turn my head with an
endeavour to grasp the horrible situation. The Peruvian is holding to
the rail with one hand and has me grasped under one arm as an
inconsiderate child holds a kitten.

"Let me go!"

"I ask you before dthat you lean not out--but if you vill, I must zee
dthat you fall not."

"I tell you I'll come back, let me go!" and I glance out
shudderingly. We have passed over the obstruction, whatever it