"Master," says Matthew, "if we meet De Pino and his merry men on this road 'twill be a bad job for us."
"Ay," says I; "and the sooner we get to the other end of it the safer we shall be."
"Lord love you, master," says he, "what a thing it is to be a philosopher! Here might I jeopardize my precious life another ten minutes but for your wisdom."
CHAPTER XLVI.
HOW WE CAME TO THAT PLACE WHICH I CALL THE VALLEY OF DEATH.
As we followed this path, we discovered that, where opportunity offered, bridges of long trees had been thrown from one jutting rock to another, to save the labor of cutting a way in the side of the mountain. We had crossed two of these bridges when Matthew, being ahead of me, suddenly mended his pace, and then, coming to a stand, turns about and cries:
"Hang me if I wasn't right after all, master. They have come along this road, but have turned back."
"How can you answer for that, friend?" says I.
"Why, look you," says he, pointing to the road a dozen yards ahead of us. "Here is a bridge broke."