"Now, Señorita, if I hold you not zo far out as you like, tell me."
I look down, and under my very eyes the solid ground ends, my horrified vision drops hundreds of feet to the bottom of a mighty gash in Cordilleras' flank, and for one sick instant I shut my eyes.
"How like you a baranca?"
Is it the wind jeering after me as I drop down, down, down? With a supreme effort I turn to see if that face is behind me, and behold! the Peruvian calmly meets my eyes with actually a smile on his lips. He is still holding me jauntily over the platform steps, and it was only my giddy fancy that fell so far.
We have passed the gorge, and, looking back, I see the "narrow-gauge" track lying across the chasm like a herring-bone over a hole.
"Ve haf more barancas if you like dthem."
"Oh, Guillermo," I say, "please let me go in!"
"Not for my sake! I can hold you here von hour vidth dthese 'gude-for-nodthing' hands."
"Oh, I don't doubt it; you're the strongest man I ever knew, but I don't like barancas. Please, please, Guillermo!"
He draws me back on the platform, and without asking my pardon or looking the least bit penitent, he opens the door for me to go inside.