wished to get down and walk up them, as we do at home, but the driver
would not hear of it. "No, no," he said. "You must not walk here.
The dogs are too fierce." And then he added, with what he evidently
meant for grim pleasantry--for he looked round to catch the approving
smile of the rest--"And you may have enough of such matters before you
go to sleep." The only stop he would make was a moment's pause to
light his lamps.

When it grew dark there seemed to be some excitement amongst the
passengers, and they kept speaking to him, one after the other, as
though urging him to further speed. He lashed the horses unmercifully
with his long whip, and with wild cries of encouragement urged them on
to further exertions. Then through the darkness I could see a sort of
patch of grey light ahead of us, as though there were a cleft in the
hills. The excitement of the passengers grew greater. The crazy
coach rocked on its great leather springs, and swayed like a boat
tossed on a stormy sea. I had to hold on. The road grew more level,
and we appeared to fly along. Then the mountains seemed to come
nearer to us on each side and to frown down upon us. We were entering
on the Borgo Pass. One by one several of the passengers offered me
gifts, which they pressed upon me with an earnestness which would take
no denial. These were certainly of an odd and varied kind, but each
was given in simple good faith, with a kindly word, and a blessing,
and that same strange mixture of fear-meaning movements which I had
seen outside the hotel at Bistritz--the sign of the cross and the
guard against the evil eye. Then, as we flew along, the driver leaned
forward, and on each side the passengers, craning over the edge of the
coach, peered eagerly into the darkness. It was evident that
something very exciting was either happening or expected, but though I
asked each passenger, no one would give me the slightest explanation.