It was a movement totally unexpected by the latter, and the sudden shock nearly tore him from his perch. The torch and knife dropped from his hands, as the latter instinctively raised to the cable and gripped it, with the energy of despair. That fact saved them both, but for how long? How would it end?
The vibration given to the cable forced it to and fro, until their forms were nearly dashed against the sharp, jagged points of the rocks, to touch which would be certain death, now that the ascent had recommenced, the shock being evidently regarded by those above as a signal to wind up the rope.
And they were only half way. Despierto strove with all his energy to loosen the hold of his enemy, but in vain. Both feet were fast in the vise-like grip of the young miner, who knew that if one hand, a finger even, should slip, a horrible death was inevitable; that he would shoot down—down through the vast tunnel, and if not suffocated, be killed upon the rocks below, perhaps at the very feet of his comrades.
The murderer shrieked wildly, and implored the young miner to loosen his hold, in his terror. That the plaited strap of bark, by which alone they were separated from death, was slipping, slowly slipping, down the smooth, hard cable.
It would bear the weight of one; two, it could not. Marcos fully realized his danger, but what could he do to avoid it? If Despierto would only allow him, he could climb hand over hand up his body, and cling to the cable above. But he knew, that if he loosened one hand to clutch higher up, that the liberated foot would dash his hand from the other ankle. There was nothing to do but to wait—wait and pray that the outer world might be reached before the slip-noose should drop from the end of the cable.
The young miner fixed his eyes despairingly upon the end of the rope, where it had been severed by Despierto. The gloom was dense, but it stood clear as a rush-light to the preternaturally acute gaze of Sayosa. Slowly, but all too rapidly, it crawled away from him, until, to his strained glare, it seemed like a drop of molten gold, millions of miles above him.
Now it has vanished. The body of the disguised miner conceals it from Marcos, who now feels all the horrors of the death he contemplates. Each moment it seems to him that he hears the sudden burr-r-r of the noose slipping over the end. Oh, the horrors of those few minutes, so short in time, and long, countlessly long in experience! This hanging, suspended by a frail cord, between life and death, slowly nearing the one, while yet the other creeps nigher.
Marcos Sayosa closes his eyes with a shudder. He is brave, but such a death. Then Despierto utters a wild, piercing cry, but not of despair; it is one of hope. The mists above them have vanished, and the blue sky is visible. Oh, blessed sight!
Shriek after shriek they send up for help and as they are heard, eager, half-frightened faces are seen peering down toward them. Then the cracking of whips and loud shouts are heard, and the cable glides swiftly up the tiro.
But see! not three inches hold the bark-strap. With a hoarse howl, Marcos draws himself up by his arms, and then, with a desperate spring, he releases his hold. To fail is death; to succeed is safety and life.