over our
heads. We could feel the water up to the saddle-flaps, cold as ice; and
yet we were journeying in the hot tropic. But we were fording a stream
fed by the snows of Orizava.

"Now I am certain of the road," continued Raoul, after we had crossed.
"I know this bank well. The mule slides. Look out, Captain."

"For what?" I asked, with some anxiety.

The Frenchman laughed as he replied:

"I believe I am taking leave of my senses. I called to you to look out,
as if you had the power to help yourself in case the accident should
occur."

"What accidents?" I inquired, with a nervous sense of some impending
danger.

"Falling over: we are on a precipice that is reckoned dangerous on
account of the clay; if your mule should stumble here, the first thing
you would strike would be the branches of some trees five hundred feet
below, or thereabout."

"Good heaven!" I ejaculated; "is it so?"

"Never fear, Captain; there is not much danger. These mules appear to
be sure-footed; and certainly," he added, with a laugh, "their loads are
well packed and tied."

I was in no condition just then to relish a joke, and my companion's
humour was completely thrown away upon me. The thought of my mule
missing his foot and tumbling over a precipice, while I was stuck to him
like a centaur, was anything else than pleasant. I had heard of such
accidents, and the knowledge did not make the reflection any easier. I
could not help muttering to myself:

"Why, in the name of mischief, did the fellow tell me this till we had
passed it?"

I crouched closer to the saddle, allowing my limbs to follow every
motion of the animal, lest some counteracting shock might disturb our
joint equilibrium. I could hear the torrent, as it roared and hissed
far below, appearing directly under us; and the "sough" grew fainter and
fainter as we ascended.

On we went, climbing up--up--up; our strong mules straining against the
precipitous path. It was daybreak. There was a faint glimmer of light
under our tapojos. At length we could perceive a brighter beam. We
felt a sudden glow of heat over our bodies; the air seemed lighter; our
mules walked on a horizontal path. We were on the ridge, and warmed by
the beams of the rising sun.

"Thank heaven we have passed it!"

I could not help feeling thus: and yet perhaps we were riding to an
ignominious death!

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

A DRINK A LA CHEVAL.

The guerilleros now halted an