The three ladies were resting on rugs spread under the pines; Beppo was sleeping in the sun, his hat over his face, and the donkeys, securely tethered (Tony had attended to that), were innocently nibbling mountain herbs.

There was no obvious reason why, as he lighted a cigarette and stretched himself on the parapet, Tony should not have been the most self-satisfied guide in the world.

He had not only completed the expedition in safety, but had saved the heroine's life by the way; and even if the heroine did not appear as thankful as she might, still, her father had shown due gratitude, and, what was to the point, had promised a reward.

That should have been enough for any reasonable donkey driver.
But it was distinctly not enough for Tony.

He was in a fine temper as he lay on the parapet and scowled at the pavement.