said something a little
'komisch'--but perhaps I've got a sunstroke and it acts like laughing
gas. Don't be cross, Guillermo." I take his arm and notice covertly
that he is mollified.

"Blanca," he says, with a half smile, "dthat adobe house vidth vines
look cool--suppose I buy dthat and ve stay here leedle vhile."

I follow his eyes.

"That mansion would hardly hold our party; it doesn't look as if it
boasted more than two rooms."

"Dthat vould be enough. Madame Steele vish much to see Guatemala; she
go on and ve miss dthat train."

"Brilliant scheme!" I admit, "but----" A shrill blast cuts through
the air. "Heavens and earth! that's the whistle!"

Like one possessed I tear down the road with never a glance behind--it
seems miles to the station, and as I come near I see the train is
moving. I make a rush for the rear platform. Voices behind scream
reproof and warning, but I never look back; I grasp the iron railing
and am whisked off my feet by the motion. With a desperate wrench I
pull myself up the steps and steady my trembling body against the door
of the baggage car. I look in. It's locked, and no one is there.
"Stupid idiot!" I mutter. "That mooning Baron hasn't the smallest
grain of sense--saying we had twenty minutes! Well, _he's_ left
anyhow--serves him right!" And then I cool down and reflect that going
to Guatemala without the Baron may not be so amusing. I shake the door
of the car, but no one hears, and I notice the train is slowing. "Mrs.
Steele thinks I'm left and has made them come back--well, I'm not
sorry, for now we'll get that stupid Baron again. Yes, just as I
thought----" as we begin to move back to Escuintla--"there's the
vine-covered hut that idiotic person proposed buying--here's the
station and ... who's that?" Before my astonished eyes stand Mrs.
Steele and the Baron de Bach, looking anxiously for the advancing
train. As it stops they run forward.

"My dear, don't you ever do such a foolhardy thing again," begins Mrs.
Steele, severely.

"If I had known vhat you vould do, I vould haf hold you till----"

"The train doesn't go for ten minutes," Mrs. Steele interrupts; "it
was only shifting to another track. You might have known the Baron
would watch the time."

Mrs. Steele looks weak with apprehension--it is only when she has been
alarmed that I realise how delicate she is.

"I'm so sorry you were frightened," I say, feeling too utterly reduced
to rebuff the Baron for lifting me do