Literally may I say the "slip," though the word may need explanation.
I was returning towards my own steed, with the intention of once more
regaining my saddle, and riding back in the direction I had come, when a
swishing noise fell upon my ear, that caused the blood to curdle within
my veins, as if the sound so heard had been the summons of the last
trumpet.
The wild cry that succeeded this sound added little to its terrors; for
I knew that one was but the prelude to the other.
The first was to me a noise well known and easily identified. It was
the whistling of lazos projected through the air. The second was but
the triumphant cheer that accompanied their projection.
I looked up in dismay, which instantly became despair. It was not
causeless. The air above me was a network of ropes, each with a running
noose at its end.
I might not have observed their intricate coiling, nor perhaps did I at
the moment. I was not allowed much time for minute observation. Almost
in the same instant that the "swishing" sounded in my ears, I felt my
body encircled by closing cords; and the next moment I was jerked from
my feet, and flung with violence upon my back.
Story 1, Chapter XX.