Chapter Thirty Nine.
Guided by a Renegade.
For some seconds there was silence in our midst. It was the silence of men who have nothing to say to one another.
There was no need for any one to explain what had passed. All saw, and too clearly, that we had been chicaned; and that the wretched curs who had “sold” us, were as completely beyond our reach, as if twenty miles lay between us and them!
To be convinced of this, we had only to look down to the bottom of the barranca—sheer fifty feet, before the eye rested on the white froth flakes gliding below!
It was superfluous in Sam Brown to tell us, there was no crossing for a mile above or below. A glance at the twin cliffs, as they faced frowningly towards each other, seemed to say: that they had parted in anger, not soon to come together again!
A mile in either direction meant as much as ten—ay, twenty, upon an ordinary road. It meant the ruin of Mercedes!
“O God!” I exclaimed in my anguish, “is there no chance of our getting across?”
I was answered by the groaning of the torrent beneath my feet, and the maniac laugh of the eagle that soared majestically over my head—both seeming to mock the impuissance of man.
“A thousand dollars!” I shouted out, loud enough to be heard by the remotest of my followers, “a thousand dollars to the man who can show a way by which this chasm may be crossed!”
“Por dios, caballero!” replied a voice, coming from a quarter where it was not expected. “For the tenth part of that pretty sum I’d be willing to pledge my soul: more especially, if by so doing I can redeem my body.”
The words were in Spanish. I turned in the direction whence came the voice. I could see that it had proceeded from one of the prisoners, we had taken in the first attack.
The speaker declared himself by endeavouring to struggle to his feet, and making other gestures to attract our attention.
I hastened towards him, and gave an order for his limbs to be set free of their fastenings.
This was done.
“You know—?” I was about to ask.
“A way to get across the quebrada,” said the brigand, interrupting me, “if you’ll let me show it to you. I only stipulate—”
“Hang your stipulations!” interposed one of my men. “We’ll shoot you, if you don’t show it! Like a dog we’ll shoot you!”
The rude rebuke, with which I punished the interference of my over zealous follower, had its effect upon the bandolero. It secured me his confidence—while strengthening his treasonous intention.
“Señor capitan,” he said, “I perceive that you are a true caballero, and can be trusted with a secret. How much, then, for taking you across? I know you’re not in earnest about the thousand pesos. Say a hundred, and the thing’s done. I don’t bargain for my life. That, of course, will be part of the price I should claim for my services.”
“Your life, and a thousand dollars, if within ten minutes you take us to the other side!”
“Ten minutes!” answered the robber, reflectingly. “Ten! It’s but short time to do it in. Say twenty, señor capitan?”
“Twenty, then—if it must be.”
“Agreed! And don’t suppose that I’m going to earn the reward without some risk. Carrambo! I’m staking my life against it! Silencio, señores!” he continued in a commanding tone, “Hay Moros en la costa! I must listen a bit before it will be safe to proceed.”
We had released the brigand from his ropes, and conducted him inside the hut.
As soon as he had entered it, he stole cautiously to the back door; and, placing himself behind one of the jambs, remained for some seconds listening.
I had given orders that no one should make a noise. There was none heard except the hoarse cataract and the shrill caracara.
“Esta bue no!” he at length ejaculated. “The Moors are gone—the coast is clear.”
“It is?” I mechanically asked.
“Sin duda, señor. My camarados have taken their departure. If you wish to cross to the other side there will be no danger now.”
“We wish it! Quick! Show us the way!”
“Nos vamos!”
The bandit, stepping out upon the ledge—that served as a sort of sill to the back door of the cabin—knelt down upon it.
Misled by a former experience, I fancied he was going to offer up a prayer for the success of his treasonable enterprise!
I was undeceived, on seeing him glide gently over the edge.
I craned my head outward, and looked below.
He was already half-way down the cliff, suspended on the llianas that had formed the swing bridge.
He was still rapidly descending.
In another score of seconds he had reached the base of the barranca; where a narrow shelf of rock afforded him footing by the stream.
On touching it, he stopped, looked upwards, and called out:—
“Hola! señor capitan! I’ve forgotten to tell you, that I require assistance. I shall not be able to raise the puente-hamaca myself. You must give me one of your men; or else one of my old camarados!”
“I know what he means,” said the stage-driver, stepping forth as a volunteer, and stooping to take hold of the llianas. “Thar may be treezun in the skunk. I don’t think thar is. But if there shed be, cap’n, jest keep a look out acrosst the gulley, an’ give ’em plenty o’ lead. I know enough o’ your fellows, to feel sure they won’t make a meal-sieve o’ my carcass. Here goes for a bit o’ gymnasticks!”
Before I could make reply to this extraordinary speech, Sam Brown had disappeared below the level of the doorstep. When I next saw him, he was standing on the ledge below, with the froth of the cataract clouting up around his ankles!