me because I was dark, and I to her because she was fair. Orizaba and
opportunity merely brought out and accentuated these quite natural
preferences.

By now the day had broken, and, looking out of the window, I could see
that we were travelling along the side of a mountain. Above us the slope
was gentle and clothed with sub-tropical trees, while below it became a
veritable precipice, in some places absolutely sheer, for the road was
cut upon a sort of rocky ledge, although, owing to the vast billows of
mist that filled it, nothing could be seen of the gulf beneath.

I was reflecting, I remember, that this would be an ill path to drive
with a drunken coachman, when suddenly I saw the off-front mule stumble
unaccountably, and, as it fell, heard a shot fired close at hand. Next
instant also I saw the driver and his companion spring from the
box, and, with a yell of terror, plunge over the edge of the cliff,
apparently into the depths below. Then from the narrow compass of that
coach arose a perfect pandemonium of sounds, with an under cry of a
single word, "Brigands! Brigands!"

The merchants shouted, supplicated their saints, and swore as with
trembling hands they tried to conceal loose valuables in their boots
and hats; one of the priests too literally howled in his terror, but the
other, a man of more dignity, only bowed his head and murmured a prayer.
By this time also the mules had tied themselves into a knot and were
threatening to overturn the coach, to prevent which our captors, before
meddling with us, cut the animals loose with their _machetes_ or swords,
and drove them over the brink of the abyss, where, like the drivers,
they vanished. Then a dusky-faced ruffian, with a scar on his cheek,
came to the door of the diligence and bowing politely beckoned to us