Our driver was a young Scots giant in leather coat, with flaming hair and a public-school accent, He was an exhilarating companion, full lof hair-raising tales of accidents.
whizzed up the stony roads of Oroya scattering donkeys and women in shrieking hues to right and left, and with a sudden turn, streaked Up a mountain roa two lumbering pre-historic omnibuses, and began on a series of hairpin loops, to a height of 14,000 feet. The rush through the fresh fair had completely revived me, but the Swiss found this part of the Journey even worse than the railway, As we neared the summit, I glanced back at the view. No snowcapped peaks could be seen; they were den by luminous masses of sunset, clouds. From the chasm where Oroya lay, fumes were issuing as if from the bottomless pit.
At the top we found ourselves on a plateau resembling @ Scotch moor, and after a time began a series of zigzags down the steep slope of the mountain, Soon it becazte dark, an
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