The recent flooding rains had
washed the road clear away in places, but we never stopped,
we never slowed down for anything.
We tore right along,
over rocks, rubbish, gullies, open fields - sometimes with
one or two wheels on the ground, but generally with none.
Every now and then that calm, good-natured madman would
bend a majestic look over his shoulder at us and say,
"Ah, you perceive? It is as I have said - I am the
king of drivers." Every time we just missed going
to destruction, he would say, with tranquil happiness,
"Enjoy it, gentlemen, it is very rare, it is very unusual
- it is given to few to ride with the king of drivers
- and observe, it is as I have said, _I_ am he."
He spoke in French, and punctuated with hiccoughs.
His friend was French, too, but spoke in German - using
the same system of punctuation, however. The friend
called himself the "Captain of Mont Blanc," and wanted us
to make the ascent with him. He said he had made more
ascents than any other man - forty seven - and his brother
had made thirty-seven. His brother was the best guide
in the world, except himself - but he, yes, observe him
well - he was the "Captain of Mont Blanc" - that title
belonged to none other.
The "king" was as good as his word - he overtook that long
procession of tourists and went by it like a hurricane.
The result was that we got choicer rooms at the hotel
in Chamonix than we should have done if his majesty
had been a slower artist - or rather, if he hadn't most
providentially got drunk before he left Argentie`re.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 414 of 558
Words from 115907 to 116199
of 156082
