It turns out just such a night as was wished for--moonless, still not
obscurely dark. Too much darkness would defeat the end in view. They
need light for the lowering down, a thing that will take some time with
careful management.
But the miners are the very men for such purpose. Not one of them who
has not dangled at a rope's end in a shaft hundreds of feet sheer down
into the earth. To them it is habitude--child's play--as to him who
spends his life scaling sea-coast cliffs for the eggs and young of
birds.
It is yet early when the party entrusted with the undertaking assemble
on the edge of the precipice, at the point where the daring adventurer
is to make descent. Some carry coils of rope, others long poles notched
at the end for fending the line off the rocks, while the _gambusino_ is
seen bearing a burden which differs from all the rest. A saddle and
bridle it is; his own, cherished for their costliness, but now placed at
the service of his young friend, to do what he will with them.
"I could ride Crusader without them," says the English youth: "guide him
with my voice and knees; but these will make it surer, and I thank you,
Senor Vicente."
"Ah, _muchacho_! if they but help you, how glad 'twill make me feel! If
they're lost, it wouldn't be for that I'd grudge the twenty _doblones_
the saddle cost me. I'd give ten times as much to see you seated in it
on the _plaza_ of Arispe."
"I'll be there, _amigo_, in less than sixty hours if Crusader hasn't
lost his strength by too long feeding on grass."
"I fancy you need not fear that, senorito; your horse is one that
nothing seems to affect. I still cling to the belief he's the devil
himself."
"Better believe him an angel--our good angel now, as I hope he will
prove himself."
This exchange of speech between the two who have long been _compagnons
de chasse_, is only an interlude occurring while the ropes are being
uncoiled and made ready.
Instead of a loop to be passed around the adventurer's body, a very
different mode for his making descent has been pre-arranged. He is to
take seat in the saddle, just as though it were on the back of a horse,
and, with feet in the stirrups and hands clutching the cords that
suspend it, be so let down. A piece of wood passed under the tree, and
firmly lashed to pommel and cantle, will secure its equilibrium.
Finally all is ready, and, the daring rider taking his seat, is soon
swinging in mid-air. Hand over hand they lower him down, slowly,
cautiously, listening all the while for a signal to be sent up. This
they get in due time--a low whistle telling them that he has reached the
first ledge, though they could tell it by the strain upon the rope all
at once having ceased.
Up it is drawn again, its owner himself, in turn, taking seat in it, to
be lowered down as the other. Then again and again it is hoisted up and
let down, till half a score of the miners, stalwart men, Robert
Tresillian among them, stand on the bench below.
Now the saddle is detached and fastened on to another rope, when the
same process is repeated; and so on, advantage being taken of the
sloping ledges, till the last is arrived at.
Here it is but a repetition of what has gone before, only with a longer
reach of rope; and here Pedro Vicente takes last leave of the youth who
has become so endeared to him.
In the eye of the _honest gambusino_ there is that not often seen there,
a tear. He flings his arms around the English youth, exclaiming:
"_Dios te guarda, muchacho valiente_! (God guard you, my brave lad)."
The parting between the two is almost as affectionate as that between
Henry and his father, the last saying, as he enfolds his son in his
arms:
"God go with you, my noble boy!" In another moment the daring youth is
once more in the saddle, going down, down, till he feels his feet upon
the plain. Then stepping out of it, and sending up the preconcerted
signal, he detaches saddle and bridle from the cords, leaving the latter
to swing free.
Shouldering the horse gear with other _impedimenta_, he looks round to
get his bearings, and, soon as satisfied about these, starts off over
the plain in search of Crusader.
He is not the only one at that moment making to find the horse. From
the Indian camp a picked party has issued forth, urged by the chief.
For the new leader of the Coyoteros longs to possess that now famous
steed as much as did the deceased one.
"Ten of my best mustangs, and as many of my mules, will I give for the
black horse of the paleface. He who captures him may claim that
reward."
More than once has El Zopilote thus declared himself, exciting the
ardour and cupidity of his followers. Withal they have chased Crusader
in vain, over and over again, till in their superstitious fancy they
begin to think him a phantom.
But as yet they have never tried to take him by night; and now, having
ascertained the place where he usually passes the nocturnal hours, they
start out in quest of him.
Not rashly nor incautiously; instead, they proceed deliberately, and
with a preconceived plan, as though stalking game. Their intention is
first to enfilade the animal at long distance off, then contract the
circle, so as to have him sure.
In execution of their scheme, on reaching the western side of the lake,
they divide into two parties. One moves along the mountain's foot,
dropping a file here and there; the other strikes out over the _llano_,
in a circular line, as it proceeds doing the same.
It is too dark for them to see horse or other object at any great
distance, so they take care that their circle be wide enough to embrace
the stretch of pasture where the coveted animal is known to browse.
Noiselessly they execute the movement, going at a slow walk, lest the
hoof-strokes of their horses may alarm the one they would enclose; and
when the heads of the separated parties again come together, all know it
by a signal agreed upon--the cry of the coyote transmitted along their
line admonishes them that the cordon is complete.