"Seven," I firmly replied. "Not a centime more. Drive on!"
"Ze signor will pay 'leven francs," he fiercely persisted, "seven for ze driver and four for ze cicerone, ze guide."
"What guide? I've had no guide."
"Me, signor. I am ze guide. 'Ave I not been telling of ze beautiful villas and ze countrie?"
"You weren't asked to," I retorted. "Nobody wanted it."
"Zat does not mattaire. Ze signor will pay for ze cicerone."
"I'll see you hanged first."
"Zen we shall see."
He turned his mules to the side of the road next the precipice. I caught a glimpse of an ugly knife in the handkerchief round his waist. In a moment I had whipped out my revolver, and levelled it straight for his head. My word, how startled he was!