THE CRATER. 
51 
the end of the track ; terror seizes your soul; you jump des¬ 
perately ten, twenty, thirty feet at every bound, twisting 
yourself back in the air like a cat; you vow in your agony of 
mind that you will never drop poor puss over the bannisters 
again in order to see her land on her feet: another leap, an¬ 
other twist does it ; your feet are in the air, and you go sail¬ 
ing down gallantly on the seat of your breeches. Hurra ! clear 
the track, there ! don’t stop me ! glorious! splendid ! Here we 
are, Pedro, all right; keep a look out for my hat, it’ll be down 
here presently ! Bless my soul, what a slide that was ! 
Emerging from the oak forest, three hours below, the view 
in the noon-day sun is beautiful beyond description. The 
whole semi-circle of valleys and mountains, villages and 
vineyards, as seen through the vistas of dark foliage, seems 
hung in the golden atmosphere like some magnificent scenic 
illusion ; bright and glowing, and full of rich coloring. The 
tinkling of the goat-bells from the rocks below, the songs of 
the shepherds, and the mellowed sounds of life from the dis¬ 
tant valleys, rise upon the still air like the murmuring of 
dreamy music ; and around about us the earth was fragrant 
with wild flowers ; and the gnarled old oaks made a pleasant 
shade. 
