"One of our baggage-mules was ahead, and right in one of the laderas he met a train coming the other way. I feared he would be thrown from the path into the great chasm, a thousand feet below, and you may be sure my face was full of anxiety.
"To my surprise and delight the mule planted his four feet close together, and turned around in a space not more than a yard wide! Then he trotted back to join us, and I wanted to get down and hug him for his display of intelligence.
"Federico told me to allow everything to my mule, and under no circumstances attempt to guide it in a dangerous spot. 'The mule knows every ladera on the mountains,' said he, 'and exactly where to place its feet. Never hurry it in the least, and never touch the reins no matter how much you are tempted to do so.'
"This was good advice, and I remembered it, at any rate, most of the time. Once I forgot myself when the mule stumbled on a ladera, and for a few seconds was balanced on one foot on the edge of a fearful abyss. The side of the mountain was almost perpendicular for five or six hundred feet below me, and there was a wild torrent dashing along its base. Instinctively I threw out my hands to grasp the reins. Federico was just behind, and shouted for me to sit still; his voice recalled what he had told me, and my hands dropped to my side as though I had lost all strength. One foot of the mule actually went over the edge of the rock, but the other held its position, and I was safe!
SNOW-SLIDE ON THE TRAIL.
"One of the perils of the road are the snow-slides. Masses of snow accumulate on the slopes of the mountains, and suddenly, without a moment's warning, sweep downward into the valley below. Men and animals on any part of the trail crossed by the avalanche are carried along with it; sometimes they are crushed to death and buried far out of sight, and sometimes they escape without serious injury. Generally, however, the snow-slides are fatal to those who happen to be caught in them, and the arrieros naturally hold them in great dread.
"I think I hear some one asking why I did not get off and walk in the perilous places. The arrieros say it is more dangerous to walk than to ride, and certainly they ought to know. In the first place, I was ignorant of the road, and that is a very important consideration; and, secondly, the mule is accustomed to this kind of travel and I am not. He never takes a step without determining beforehand exactly where his feet are to be planted, and not until one foot is firmly in position does he venture to lift another. Besides, he has twice as many feet as I have, and, therefore, should be doubly sure-footed.