half-hour; and if not, our horses are old stagers, and won't be frightened in a hurry."

As he spoke the sky momentarily brightened, and somewhat reassured I replied, "Well, go ahead, old fellow. You appear to know the way; and where you lead, you won't find me far behind."

We had now done with ascents, and had to round the mountain at about half the distance to its summit, in order to descend on the opposite side. Our peril was now about to commence. Rootes was right; in five minutes we were on the Devil's Ridge, amidst all the horrors of perhaps the most dangerous and terrible mountain-pass in the world.

We rode, of necessity, Indian file, Rootes at forty paces in advance. The pathway was a yard wide, certainly never more, and often somewhat less. On our left rose the precipitous mountain-side, a sheer cliff, to a height of at

least a thousand feet. On our right yawned a dire chasm, apparently bottomless-to a depth, as I afterwards learned, of nine hundred and fifty feet; while from the bottom arose the roar of water, as though seething and boiling from a subterranean Niagara. I do not hesitate to affirm that at any part of the pass, had I raised my arms in the shape of the letter T, the middle finger of my left hand would have touched the black cliff; and a pebble dropped perpendicularly from between the forefinger and thumb of my right would have fallen into the whirling torrent below.

Luckily the path was good, being of rough rock, without a loose stone to be seen.

Terrible and dangerous as the pass was, it seemed to instil no alarm into the breast of my companion, who in the most narrow parts would turn in his saddle to see how I was getting on. His jet-black steed stepped out as gaily and as steadily as though on a broad coach-road. Suddenly, however, just when he was traversing one of the narrowest ledges of the rock, a burst of thunder crashed through the narrow defile, and a flame of forked lightning shot and danced before his horse's eyes. The animal reared, beat the air for a moment with his fore-hoofs, and then plunged headlong into space, precipitating himself and rider into the abyss below!

In an instant--in the twinkling of an eye-horse and horseman had vanished for ever from my sight; and with my steed reined in until his haunches pressed the dark mountain-side, whilst his fore-feet were planted in the rocky path within a couple of inches of the precipice, I gazed in agony at the fathomless grave that had so remorselessly swallowed up my unfortunate companion.

How can I describe my feelings when I beheld this awful spectacle, this hapless fate of one who, a moment before, in all the pride and strength of manhood, was riding so gaily along only a few yards before me? The blood that, but a minute before, had been coursing healthfully through my veins, seemed to freeze and suspend its functions, while my brain appeared to reel about with lightness. It was a mercy that I did not lose my seat in the saddle and fall headlong after poor Jim Rootes. For at least an hour I must have remained stationary at this spot, gazing with horror-stricken yet almost imbecile stare down that dark abyss, until my heart and head seemed on fire, and I was almost a maniac; but, thank God, my reason at length returned, and I awoke to all the dangers of my own position.

I found the rain pouring down in torrents; the lightning was one continuous blaze of light; while the heavy thunder-peals, re-echoing again and again amid the mountain-peaks and stormy ravines, sounded like the roar of heavy artillery. My horse was black with sweat, and quivering with fear, as with dilated nostrils and glaring eyes he, too, gazed into the depths below him, as though terror was prompting him to essay the leap.

I saw that his fore-legs, from being kept so long in one position, were trembling, and the muscles strained. His sure-footedness was no longer to be

depended upon; so, after a moment's consideration, I reined him round with his head down the pass, and freeing my feet from the stirrups, let the bridle fall loosely on his neck, and then slipped to the ground over his tail.

Even at this moment I tremble to think to what a terrible fate a kick or even the slightest movement on his part would have consigned me whilst I executed this manœuvre; as it happened, it was accomplished in safety, and I prepared to descend the ridge on foot, driving my charger before me. It was very slow progress. Sometimes the poor animal was so frightened that neither threats nor coaxings had any effect upon him, and he would stand trembling and whining most piteously for some minutes without moving a step. The rain, too, had made the rocky path slippery, and every dozen paces or so he would slip out and nearly topple over the precipice. Nevertheless, after another halfhour's torture, such as I never experienced before, and trust I never shall again, I could see the end of the Devil's Ridge about a quarter of a mile before us. and the sloping mountain-side beyond.

Hope now reanimated my bosom, and I do believe the poor horse felt it, too, for he never loitered in his advance until we were within a few yards from the end of the ridge. Then he stopped short, and no effort of mine would induce him to move forward. Not knowing the cause of this seeming obstinacy, I looked over his back at the road in front, and, to my horror and despair, perceived that a flash of lightning had cleft the solid rock, and caused some couple of yards in length of the pathway to slip into the gulf.

To scale the mountain-side was next to impossible. My horse could not do it; and to manage a clear six-foot leap without a run and in my present nervous state was a matter of no great certainty. I must, however, do this, or retrace my way along the Devil's Ridge over the path already traversed. This I could by no means make up my mind to do. Anything seemed preferable to re-crossing that terrible pass. I made up my mind to sacrifice my horse, and then essay the leap for life!

I could scarcely summon the heart to consign my noble charger to so terrible a doom, but his death was a necessity, and I steeled my heart for the sacrifice. I pushed him over, and with one wild shriek (for horses can shriek when in extreme terror, and the sound, though indescribable, if once heard, can never be forgotten) he disappeared from sight, though his heavy rebound from rock to rock in his descent, and ultimate dull splash into deep water at the bottom, rose plainly to my ear.

I now divested myself of my sword, belt, and coat, and threw them across the chasm; then I braced myself for the leap, keeping my eye steadily fixed upon the firm ground on the other side, and refraining from glancing below, lest I should turn giddy. At length I sprang, gained the opposite bank, but my foot slipped; I lost my balance and fell backwards, luckily clutching the spreading branches of a shrub in my descent, and thus saving myself from instant death.

Was I saved? or was it a few minutes' respite only?

The shrub to which I clung grew from out a cleft in the rock. It was about a yard below the surface. Beneath me yawned the terrible chasm that divided the two mountains. Did the branch give way, or my strength fail, I knew that I should drop like a plummet into the torrent that roared beneath Then arose the thought, "Could I scale the cliff, and so reach the pathway above?" Alas! one glance at the dark slippery rock, without a single excrescence to aid foot or hand, forbade the thought. Death seemed inevitable.

Suddenly I perceived a shelving cliff, upon which it might be possible to obtain a foothold. The question was, how to reach it; it was a desperate resource, even for one so fearfully situated as myself. I glanced at the base of the shrub that bore me; it appeared to be firmly rooted, and not likely to give way. The branch which I grasped was long, sinewy, and tough. The idea struck me that I might, by swaying my body to and fro, give it and the branch the momentum of a pendulum, increasing it gradually so as at last to be able to swing myself on to the shelving cliff.

This notion had scarcely occurred to my mind when a new horror appalled me. Close to the roots of the shrub two small glittering eyes met mine; their metallic lustre seemed to fascinate me. Then I saw a forked tongue, and a flat wedge-shaped head, which presently began to undulate from side to side as it approached me. The next instant I was aware of the dreadful fact that it was a diamond snake, one of the most venomous of its species; it had marked me as its victim.

My failing strength would not allow me to raise a hand to guard my face; the reptile was about to spring. At that moment a voice seemed to whisper in my ear, “The shelving rock-leap, and you are saved." As the voice prompted, so I acted by a vigorous jerk I gave the branch a sudden impetus; two swings, and I sprang boldly from it, alighting on the jutting crag in safety.

I now clambered up the rough side of the shelving rock, an angle of which presently hid the Devil's Ridge and its dread ravine from view. Then my steps tottered, my eyes grew dim, myriads of fiery stars seemed to sparkle around me, and I fell to the ground in a swoon.

I must have lain thus for hours—yes, the whole night. When I recovered consciousness, the sun was just rising over the mountain-tops. It was a glorious morning. A thousand feet beneath spread a vast level country, with white stations dotted here and there, few and far between. I felt very weak, but was able to crawl down the mountain-side, and about an hour later reached its base. Here, happily for I was almost dying of thirst and hunger-I came across a shepherd's hut. I stayed there the day and night. The next morning at dawn I set out for Dunewatha, and reached the out-station of mounted police, to which I was bound, about an hour before sundown.*

* For permission to use this story, which is told by Mr. J. S. Borlase in his "Daring Deeds," we have to thank the publishers, Messrs. Frederick Warne and Co.

HE prison of Madrid stands in a narrow street, not far from the great square. We entered a dusky passage, at the end of which was a wicket door. My conductors knocked; a fierce visage peered through the wicket; there was an exchange of words, and in a few moments I found myself within the prison of Madrid, in a kind of corridor which overlooked at a considerable altitude what appeared to be a court, from which arose a hubbub of voices, and occasionally wild shouts and cries.

Within the corridor, which served as a kind of office, were several people; one of them sat behind a desk, and to him the alquazils went up, and after discoursing with him some time in low tones, delivered the warrant into his hands. He perused it with attention; then rising, he advanced to me. What a figure! He was about forty years of age, and his height might have amounted to some six feet two inches had he not been curved much after the fashion of the letter S. No weasel ever appeared lanker, and he looked as if a breath of air would have been sufficient to blow him away; his face might certainly have been called handsome had it not been for its extraordinary and portentous meagreness; his nose was like an eagle's bill, his teeth white as ivory, his eyes black (oh, how black!) and fraught with a strange expression; his skin was dark, and the hair of his head like the plumage of a raven. A deep quiet smile dwelt continually on his features; but with all the quiet it was a