Presently we perceived by its jerking, that Rube had begun his ascent.
Shortly after, we could hear him sprawling and scratching upward, and
then his thin dark form loomed over the edge of the cliff, and, dead
beat for breath, he staggered silently into the bushes beside us. Even
in the darkness I noticed something peculiar in his appearance: his head
looked smaller, but I had no time to question him.
We waited only for another glance at the guerrilleros; they were still
at their posts, evidently unconscious of our movements. Rube's cat-skin
cap, cunningly adjusted upon the boulder, satisfied them that we were
still at ours; and explained, moreover, the oddness I had observed about
the upper story of the trapper.
Rube had now recovered wind; and gathering up the rope, we stole away
over the table-summit to search for a place of descent.
On reaching the opposite side, we at once found what we wanted--a tree
near the edge of the cliff. Many small pines grew upon the escarpment;
and selecting one, we knotted the rope securely around its trunk.
There was yet much to be done before any of us could attempt the
descent. We knew that the cliff was more than a hundred feet in
vertical height, and to glide down a rope of that length is a trying
feat, worthy the most expert of tars. None of us might be able to
accomplish it: the first could be lowered down easily enough, and this
was our intention; so might the second; but the last would have to glide
down the rope without aid.
We were not long delayed by the contemplation of this obstacle: my
comrades were men of quick thought; and a plan to get over the
difficulty soon suggested itself.
Their knives were out in a trice: a sapling was procured, and cut into
short pieces; these were notched, and tied at intervals along the rope.
Our "Jacob's ladder" was ready.
It still remained to make sure that the rope was of sufficient length.
The knots had somewhat shortened it; but this point was soon settled,
with like ingenuity.
A small stone was tied to one end, and then dropped over the cliff.
We listened: we heard the dull "thump" of the stone upon the prairie
turf. The rope therefore reached to the ground.
It was again drawn up, the stone taken out, and the noose fastened
around the body of Rube, under his armpits. He was the lightest, and
for this reason had been chosen to make the first descent, as he would
least try the strength of the rope--still a doubtful point. The ascent
had not proved it--for in climbing up, but one-half of our weight had
been upon it, our feet resting either against the cliff, or upon its
ledges. On reaching the plain, Rube was to submit the rope to trial,
before either Garey or I should attempt to go down. This he was to do
by adding a large stone to his own weight--making both at least equal to
that of Garey, who was by far the heaviest of the party.
All being arranged, the old trapper slid silently over the edge of the
cliff--Garey and I giving out the rope slowly, and with caution.
Foot by foot, and yard by yard, it was drawn through our hands, by the
weight of the descending body--now lost to our sight over the brow of
the cliff.
Still slowly, and with caution, we allowed the lazo to pass, taking care
that it should glide gradually, so as not to jerk, and cause the body of
our comrade to oscillate with too much violence against the rocks.
We were both seated close together, our faces turned to the plain. More
than three-quarters of the rope had passed from us, and we were
congratulating ourselves that the trial would soon be over, when, to our
dismay, the strain ceased with a suddenness that caused both of us to
recoil upon our backs! At the same instant, we heard the "twang" of the
snapping rope, followed by a sharp cry from below!
We sprang to our feet, and mechanically recommenced hauling upon the
rope. The weight was no longer upon it, it was light as packthread, and
returned to our hands without effort.
Desisting, we fronted to each other, but not for an explanation.
Neither required it; neither uttered a word. The case was clear: the
rope had broken; our comrade had been hurled to the earth!
With a simultaneous impulse, we dropped upon our knees; and, crawling
forward to the brink of the precipice, looked over and downward. We
could see nothing in the dark abysm that frowned below; and we waited
till the light should break forth again.
We listened with ears keenly set.
Was it a groan we heard? a cry of agony? No; its repetition told us
what it was--the howl of the prairie-wolf. No human voice reached our
ears. Alas, no! Even a cry of pain would have been welcome, since it
would have told us our comrade still lived. But no, he was silent--
dead--perhaps broken to atoms!
It was long ere the lightning gleamed again. Before it did we heard
voices. They came from the bottom of the cliff directly under us; but
there were two, and neither was the voice of the trapper. It is easy to
distinguish the full intonation of the Saxon from the shrill treble of
the sons of Anahuac. The voices were those of our foes.
Presently the light discovered them to us. Two there were. They were
on horseback, moving on the plain below, and close into the cliff. We
saw them distinctly, but we saw not what we had expected--the mangled
body of our comrade! The gleam, long continued, had given us full time
to scrutinise the ground. We could have distinguished upon it any
object as large as a cat. Rube, living or dead, was certainly not
there!
Had he fallen into the hands of the guerrilla? The two we saw carried
lances, but no prisoner. It was not likely they had captured him:
besides, we knew that Rube, unless badly crippled, would never have
surrendered without a struggle; and neither shot not shout had been
heard.
We were soon relieved from all uneasiness on this score. The brigands
continued their conversation, and the light breeze wafted their voices
upwards, so that we could distinguish part of what was said.
"Carrambo!" exclaimed one impatiently; "you must have been mistaken? It
was the coyote you heard."
"Capitan! I am confident it was a man's voice."
"Then it must have proceeded from one of the _picaros_ behind the rock.
There is no one out here? But come! let us return by the other side of
the mesa--_vamos_!"
The hoof-strokes admonished us that they were passing onward to carry
out the design of the last speaker--who was no other than Ijurra
himself.
It was a relief to know that our comrade had not yet fallen into their
clutches. How far he was injured, we could not have an idea. The rope
had given way close to the top, and Rube had carried most of it down
with him. In the confusion, we had not noticed how much remained,
_behind_ our hands, when he fell; and now we could only guess.
Seeing that he had disappeared from the spot, we were in high hope that
he had sustained no serious injury.
But whither had he gone? Had he but _crawled_ away, and was yet in the
neighbourhood of the mesa? If so, they might still light upon him.
Hiding-place there was none, either by the base of the cliff or on the
surrounding plain.
Garey and I were anxious about the result--the more so, that the
guerrilleros had heard his cry, and were in search of him. He might
easily be found in such a naked spot.
We hastily formed the determination to cross the table summit to the
other side, and watch the movements of the two horsemen.
Guided by their voices, we once more knelt above them, at the rearmost
angle of the mound. They had there halted to examine the ground, and
only waited for the flash; we, too, waited above them, and _within
range_.
"We kin fetch them out o' thar saddles?" whispered my companion.
I hesitated to give my assent; perhaps it was prudence that restrained
me, for I had now conceived hopes of a surer deliverance.
At that moment gleamed the lightning; the dark horsemen loomed large
under its yellow glare; they were less than fifty paces from the muzzles
of our guns: we could have sighted them with sure aim; and, bayed as we
had been, I was almost tempted to yield to the solicitations of my
companion.
Just then, an object came under our eyes that caused both of us to draw
back our half-levelled rifles--that object was the body of our comrade
Rube.
It was lying flat along the ground, the arms and legs stretched out to
their full extent, and the face buried deep in the grass. From the
elevation at which we viewed it, it appeared like the hide of a young
buffalo, spread out to dry, and pinned tightly to the turf. But we knew
it was not that; we knew it was the body of a man dressed in brown
buckskin--the body of the earless trapper! It was not dead neither; no
dead body could have placed itself in such an attitude, for it lay
flattened along the turf like a gigantic newt.
The object of this attitude was evident to us, and our hearts beat with
a painful anxiety while the light flickered around. The body was
scarcely five hundred yards out; but though perfectly visible from our
position, it must have been inconspicuous to the horsemen below; for as
soon as it darkened, we heard them, to our great relief, ride back
toward the front--Ijurra reiterating his doubts as they passed away.
Fortunate it was for both him and his companion they had not espied that
prostrate form--fortunate for Rube--for all of us!
Garey and I kept our places, and waited for another flash.
When it came, the brown buckskin was no longer in sight! Far off--
nearly a mile off, we fancied we could distinguish the same form
flattened out as before; but the gloam of the prairie-grass rendered our
vision uncertain.
Of one thing, however, we were certain--our comrade had escaped.