Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XIII. A Vision of Sudden Death
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288 DAYS IN THE SUN
while the earth all around dropped away, wider and
wider. The Vega, at an elevation of 2,300 feet above
sea-level, seemed almost hidden in the abysses. Even
its white wreath of mountains fell away; Sierra
Elvira, Sierra Alhama, the gloomy cleft far across the
way near Loja. All the mountain-tops dropped lower
and lower until the entire landscape seemed bound-
lessly great; only the battlements of the Sierra Nevada
still protruded.
At the stagecoach office they had told me that the
route made the connection with the Madrid express
which passed through Guadix at three o’clock in the
afternoon. The mayoral was greatly astonished to
learn this, and proved to me that the schedule time of
arrival for this coach was five o’clock. This meant
that we should not be able to leave Guadix until the
slow night-train which took twenty-four hours to reach
Madrid. I promised the mayoral a duro if we could
make the express train at Guadix.
This was the signal for a mad dash. The mayoral
rose in his seat and lashed his mules with a shrill yell:
“Y—aa! Y—aa!” The zagal dashed forward beating
the animals with his stick and throwing stones at them.
He ran and yelled and beat them until their course be-
came so furious that he was almost left behind, being
obliged to cling to the running-board. We had just
scaled a ridge and were again descending at a furious
pace. The bells jingled, the coach bumped, bounced
into the air, swayed to one side—but on it went—on!
Down into a deep gully, then over a glen by an old
wooden bridge, and up over a steep slope at the same
dashing speed.
In the sharp turns the lead animals of our train were
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