Go first; my horse likes a lead." Pizarro went to the edge of the rift, stretched out his head as if to measure the distance, and then, springing over as lightly as a deer, landed safely on the other side.

The next moment Carmen was with me.

After two or three more grips (all of unknown depth, and one smelling strongly of sulphur) had been surmounted in the same way, we came to the stream.
The bank was so steep and slippery that the horses had to slide down it on their haunches (after the manner of South American horses).

But having got in, we had to get out.

This proved no easy task, and it was only after we had floundered in the brook for twenty minutes or more, that Carmen found a place where he thought it might be possible to make our exit.