All who had horses followed the cibolero, who now directed himself
towards a path that led from the valley to the table above. This path
wound up the cliffs by zigzag turnings, and was the only one by which
the upper plain could be reached at that point. A corresponding road
traversed the opposite bluff, so that the valley might be here crossed;
and this was the only practicable crossing for several miles up and
down.
Though but a thousand feet separated the valley and table-land, the path
leading from one to the other was nearly a mile in length; and as it was
several miles from the scene of the festival to the bottom of the cliff,
only those accompanied Carlos who were mounted, with a few others
determined to witness every manoeuvre of this fearful attempt. Of
course, the officers were of the party who went up. The rest of the
people remained in the valley, but moved forward in the direction of the
cliffs, so that they would be able to observe the more interesting and
thrilling part of the spectacle.
For more than an hour those on the plain were kept waiting; but they did
not allow the time to pass unimproved. A _monte_ table had been spread
out over which both gold and silver changed hands rapidly, the two
padres of the mission being among the highest bettors; and the senoras,
among themselves, had a quiet little game of their favourite _chuza_. A
"main" between a pair of sturdy chanticleers, one belonging to the
alcalde and the other to the _cura_ (!), furnished the interlude for
another half-hour. In this contest the representative of the Church was
triumphant. His grey cock ("pardo") killed the alcalde's red one at a
single blow, by striking one of his long steel galves through the
latter's head. This was regarded as a very interesting and pleasant
spectacle by all on the ground--ladies included, and alcalde excepted.
By the time the cock-fight was finished, the attention of the crowd
became directed to the movements of the party who had gone up to the
upper plain. These were now seen along the edge of the cliff, and by
their manoeuvres it was evident they were engaged in arranging the
preliminaries of the perilous adventure. Let us join them.
The cibolero, on gaining the ground, pointed out the spot where he had
proposed to execute his daring design. From the plain above the cliffs
were not visible, and even the great abyss of the valley itself could
not be seen a hundred paces back from the edge of the bluff. There was
no escarpment or slope of any kind. The turf ran in to the very edge of
the precipice, and on the same level with the rest of the plain. It was
smooth and firm--covered with a short sward of _gramma_ grass. There
was neither break nor pebble to endanger the hoof. No accident could
arise from that cause.
The spot chosen, as already stated, was a sort of buttress-like
promontory that stood out from the line of bluffs. This formation was
more conspicuous from below. Viewing it from above, it resembled a
tongue-like continuation of the plain.
Carlos first rode out to its extremity, and carefully examined the turf.
It was just of the proper firmness to preclude the possibility of a
horse's hoof either sliding or sinking into it. He was accompanied by
Vizcarra, Roblado, and others. Many approached the spot, but kept at a
safe distance from the edge of the horrid steep. Though denizens of
this land of grand geological features, there were many present who
dreaded to stand upon the brow of that fearful ledge and look below.
The cibolero sat upon his horse, on its very edge, as calm as if he had
been on the banks of the zequia, and directed the marking of the line.
His horse showed no symptoms of nervousness. It was evident he was
well-trained to such situations. Now and then he stretched out his
neck, gazed down into the valley, and, recognising some of his kind
below, uttered a shrill neigh. Carlos purposely kept him on the cliff,
in order to accustom him to it before making the terrible trial.
The line was soon traced, less than two lengths of the horse from the
last grass on the turf. Vizcarra and Roblado would have insisted upon
short measure; but their proposal to curtail it was received with
murmurs of disapprobation and mutterings of "Shame!"
What did these men want? Though not evident to the crowd, they
certainly desired the death of the cibolero. Both had their reasons.
Both hated the man. The cause or causes of their hatred were of late
growth,--with Roblado still later than his Comandante. He had observed
something within the hour that had rendered him furious. He had
observed the waving of that white kerchief; and as he stood by the stand
he had seen to whom the "adios" was addressed. It had filled him with
astonishment and indignation; and his language to Carlos had assumed a
bullying and brutal tone.
Horrible as such a supposition may seem, both he and Vizcarra would have
rejoiced to see the cibolero tumble over the bluff. Horrible indeed it
seems; but such were the men, and the place, and the times, that there
is nothing improbable in it. On the contrary, cases of equal
barbarity--wishes and _acts_ still more inhuman--are by no means rare
under the skies of "Nuevo Mexico."
The young ranchero, who had accompanied the party to the upper plain,
insisted upon fair play. Though but a ranchero, he was classed among
the "ricos," and, being a fellow of spirit, urged Carlos' rights, even
in the face of the moustached and scowling militarios.
"Here, Carlos!" cried he, while the arrangements were progressing; "I
see you are bent on this madness; and since I cannot turn you from it, I
shall not embarrass you. But you sha'n't risk yourself for such a
trifle. My purse! bet what sum you will."
As he said this, he held out a purse to the cibolero, which, from its
bulk, evidently contained a large, amount.
Carlos regarded the purse for a moment without making answer. He was
evidently gratified by the noble offer. His countenance showed that he
was deeply touched by the kindness of the youth. "No," said he, at
length; "no, Don Juan. I thank you with all my heart, but I cannot take
your purse--one onza, nothing more. I should like to stake one against
the Comandante."
"As many as you please," urged the ranchero.
"Thank you, Don Juan! only one--that with my own will be two.--Two
onzas!--that, in faith, is the largest bet I have ever made. _Vaya_! a
poor cibolero staking a double onza!"
"Well, then," replied Don Juan, "if you don't, I shall. Colonel
Vizcarra!" said he aloud, addressing himself to the Comandante, "I
suppose you would like to win back your wager. Carlos will now take
your bet for the onza, and I challenge you to place ten."
"Agreed!" said the Comandante, stiffly.
"Dare you double it?" inquired the ranchero.
"Dare I, sir?" echoed the Colonel, indignant at being thus challenged in
the presence of the spectators. "Quadruple it, if you wish, sir."
"Quadruple then!" retorted the other. "Forty onzas that Carlos performs
the feat!"
"Enough! deposit your stakes!"
The golden coins were counted out, and held by one of the bystanders,
and judges were appointed.
The arrangements having been completed, the spectators drew back upon
the plain, and left the cibolero in full possession of the promontory--
alone with his horse.