“The tomb in which we had taken refuge had been despoiled of its mummies long before. The room inside was about ten feet square. It was built of very large stones, and had sloping walls. It was a cheerless place enough, but seemed sumptuous to us, after what we had passed through. “In half an hour the storm ceased, and we proceeded on our journey, hoping to recover the road. But we could not, and night was approaching, with no prospect of a shelter. So we retraced our steps to the sepulchre once more, lighted a fire within, consumed the last of our provisions, gave the mules what was left of their provender and slept soundly all night.” “Were you not afraid of wild beasts?” “There were none in that region, or at least the guide knew of none. There were too many settlements among the mountains. And the guide still insisted upon it that we had not wandered far from the regular route. I had my doubts on the subject, but they did not prevent me from sleeping soundly, for I was very tired. “The next morning was bright, and we set off in better spirits, and with renewed hope, though rather hungry. Our hunger became so great after a time that it quite conquered our spirits, and we stumbled about the rocks, sick and dispirited. We spared our mules all we could, for the poor beasts were nearly worn out and half starved. If they failed us we would indeed be in a bad plight. “Finally, utterly exhausted, we all laid down, beasts and men together, to keep warm, and to rest. I was just dropping into a doze when I heard the sound of music. The guide heard it also, and we both started up, and felt new life in our veins. So suddenly did hope spring up in our hearts, that all fatigue dropped from us as if by magic. The mules too pricked up their ears at the sound. We sprang upon their backs and were soon traveling towards the point from whence the music came. It was not long before we came upon the musician. [Illustration: THE MAIL CARRIER.] “A bare-legged Indian, in a gay striped cloak and broad Panama hat was running along at a rapid pace, and playing upon a mouth-organ. He led a bony horse which trotted gently after him. Across its back was a leathern bag. “This man was a mail carrier, and was on his way from the sea-coast to some mountain town. So it turned out that the guide was right, and we had not been at any great distance from the settlements. Nevertheless, had it not been for the music of this poor little mouth-organ we might have wandered off in a contrary direction from the highway, and have lost ourselves in the forest, and perished there. Indeed we might never have awakened from the sleep into which we were falling when we heard the strain of music.” “Did you go with the mail carrier, father?”