TWO LASSOES
Finally Jim reached a broad ledge, that gave him an excellent foothold,
and he got his lariat ready and dangled the loop under Jo's nose.
"What are you going to hang me for?" inquired Jo.
"For a horse thief, I reckon," replied Jim, "that bay don't belong to
you does it, Mister?"
"Meaning this ocean bay?" queried Jo.
"I certainly will hang you for that," retorted Jim, "Now get the loop
under your armpits."
"All ready," cried Jo.
Then Jim, bracing himself, kept a taut line on his brother, and with
this help he was able quite easily to get over the slippery, bare belt
of rock, and in a few moments was safe with Jim on the ledge.
"It won't take us long now," said Jo, "to get to the other side."
"Let's give him a yell," suggested Jim, "to let him know that we are
coming."
Then Jim put his hands to his lips and cried:
"Senor, ahoy." They listened breathlessly and in a few moments came a
faint reply. This put renewed energy into the boys and as the way was
now easier, they leaped ahead, agile as goats, and had soon reached the
top of the cliff. They looked eagerly down.
There was the deep short semi-circle of the little bay with the waves
heaving in against the cliffs and at the point midway between the two
head-lands, where the beach was highest, they saw the Spaniard on Don
Fernando. Already the encroaching waves were gnawing at them.
It was only a question of minutes now, and horse and rider would be
carried out to sea. The Spaniard sat like a statute. It was seemingly
possible for him to have made his escape up the cliffs, which were not
overly precipitous, like those Jim and Jo had just scaled, but he was a
fatalist and believed that his day had come. Perhaps he did not want to
abandon his horse, in which his pride was centered.
"Cheer up, Senor, we'll be there," yelled Jim.
Then followed by Jo, he sprang forward, leaping from rock to rock, and
from jutting point to opportune foothold. It was dangerous and daring
work, but the life of their friend was at stake and the boys were not
the kind to consider their own safety at such a time.
It was only their sure-footedness and varied experience in climbing that
saved them from broken limbs or possible death. In a remarkably short
time, they stood upon a ledge above the Spaniard.
"Here, Senor," yelled Jim, "catch the rope."
He did as ordered but called up, "Is there no way to save my horse?"
Jim considered a moment, then shouted: "All right, yes, we will save
your horse, too. Tie the ends of the lasso to the iron rings at the ends
of the front cinch." This was a broad, strong band, which would furnish
a good purchase, when Jim tossed down the lariat. The Spaniard caught it
and made it fast as ordered.
"Now, fasten this under your arms," ordered Jim, as he cast down the
second lariat, which belonged to Jo. They then drew up the Spaniard to
safety and he appeared to be pleased in a quiet way but not at all
enthusiastic.
"I am your eternal debtor, Senors," he said with a courteous bow.
"How was it you did not follow me, Senor?" questioned Jim, "when I
sailed around the headland?"
"Don Fernando balked," replied the Senor. "I thought, too, that you had
been drowned."
"Came near it," replied Jim. "I would, too, if it had not been for
Caliente."
"But my poor Fernando, he will be drowned," cried the Spaniard, now much
more excited about the safety of his steed than he had been for his own.
It did look rather bad for the big chestnut, as a large wave swelling
in, almost took him off his feet. He began to neigh wildly.
"Don't worry, Don, old boy," cried Jim to the frightened horse. "If you
will help yourself." There was something in his voice that seemed to
reassure the animal.
"Now, Jo, we will let you down by the lariat and get the bridle reins
over his head and help him get a foothold on that ledge below us. He
will be safe enough there, even if he does get somewhat damp."
"Let me go. It is my risk for my horse," urged the Spaniard.
"It is no risk, Senor," replied Jim. "You are heavier than my brother
and stronger and can do more good on this ledge with me."
"The commands of the General!" said the Spaniard with a low bow. "I see
your plan is good."
"We will tie this end of the lasso to the tree," said Jim, "so you will
feel perfectly safe, Jo."
The tree referred to was a sturdy, gnarled cedar, growing on the ledge.
Then Jim swung his brother off and with every confidence in the strength
of the lariat to hold, Jo made his way quickly and safely down, while if
he had been without the rope he would have doubtless fallen into the
water below.
A wave surged in, submerging him, and then started triumphantly to carry
him out to sea, but when the lariat pulled taut Jo struggled safely back
on the rock, while the wave went grumbling back.
"Catch the bridle now, Jo," urged Jim. "Don't waste any more time
swimming."
Thus adjured, Jo grabbed the bridle reins and pulled them over Don
Fernando's head, and braced himself on the rock above. All was ready
now, and the two above held the loop of the lasso that had been tied at
the cinch, with both hands, and they pulled together. Again a big wave
swelled in towards the cliff, which gave the frightened horse a big
boost.
Then, with Jim and the Spaniard pulling mightily from the ledge above,
and Jo giving the big chestnut a purchase by a steady pull upon his
bridle, the horse scrambled with a mighty clatter and all his frightened
energy up the sloping rock. The lariat and Jo's work helped a whole lot.
Without the three, he would never have made it.
Before the next wave swept in, Don Fernando stood, trembling and
dripping, but safe, upon the lower ledge. He seemed above the danger
point now, though an unusually big wave welled up around the horse's
fetlocks and the spray was continually dashing upwards.
"He is all right now," cried Jim, "better come up, Jo, where it is
dryer."
"Haul in then," replied Jo, and then he was landed safely on the ledge.
"Caught a speckled trout," exclaimed Jim in happy humor again.
"Referring to my freckles, I suppose," grinned Jo. "If I'm a fish, I
reckon Don Fernando is a whale."
"Do you suppose he is safe?" inquired the Spaniard anxiously.
"Who, Jo?"
"Ah, no," said the Spaniard smilingly. "I mean the Don. The water seems
to be rising."
"You may rest assured that he is safe," replied Jim. "It is the turn of
the tide now, and it is only a westerly wind that makes it appear
higher. All we will have to do now is to wait."
"It is a great pity, this delay," said the Spaniard warmly. "You are
anxious to be on to the rescue of your brother and his friend. Anyway, I
hope you will succeed as well in their case as you did in mine."
"In another hour we will be able to start," said Jim, "the tide will
then commence to run out."
"Where shall we stop tonight?" inquired Jo.
"Camp in the open as usual," replied Jim.
"I hope we will get up above the sea so high that it won't come within a
mile of us," said Jo, fervently.
"As to a place to stop, I will see to that," said the Spaniard. "Do not
give yourselves any uneasiness on that score."
"It's getting kind of chilly roosting up here," remarked Jo,
plaintively, "especially as the fog is coming in."
"I'll warm you," said Jim. "Put up your Dukes."
"You'll take the counts if I put up my Dukes," said Jo, who was an
inveterate punnist.
"Shut up," yelled Jim, giving his brother a hearty chug in the chest.
Then they went at it hammer and tongs, giving and receiving good hard
blows, and after ten minutes of whaling at each other, both were plenty
warm. The Spaniard looked on in mild wonder.
"You Americans love the hard exercise," he said. "I should think you
would have great pleasure in resting awhile."
"I got the best of the bout," declared Jo. "See how black and blue your
face is on this side."
"You didn't do that," protested Jim. "That was a wallop that old Neptune
handed me when he bumped my head against yonder cliff."
"Neptune! Yonder cliff!" jeered Jo. "You ought to be a story writer and
use fine words."
"Me a story writer!" growled Jim. "I ain't got so low as that, not so
long as I have got two hands to steal chickens with."