“Aniwee,” groaned the former, as he peered into the crater mouth, at the base of which the young Queen stood alone, “sweet prairie flower, Piñone will not leave thee.”
But El Toro and Sir Francis had hurried back, and this latter, seizing the Indian from behind, swung him over his shoulders, and in spite of his struggles bore him from the spot, El Toro doing likewise by Blancha.
Then Graviel, turning, beheld the measure of his danger in the great avalanche rushing towards him. He did not fly, however, but seized the lassos and swung himself into the yawning mouth once more, letting himself down hand over hand with wonderful rapidity. The brave lad expected death. At least, thought he, “I will die by my Queen.”
The roar and turmoil increased above his head, a fierce rush dinned his ears, he heard a splash below him, then another and another, as he hung in mid-air against the smooth face of the rock which he was descending. The crashing of trees resounded, and a mass of hard snow struck him on the head. But it did not stun him immediately, though sparks flew in his eyes, and his head reeled round like a spinning wheel. He had sufficient sense left to double-notch the lasso around his wrist, and grasp it tightly with the other. Then consciousness left him, and he remembered no more.
When he came to, the hot air of a tropical day was blowing in his face. But he hung no longer suspended over the dark lake, with the hissing avalanche above him and destruction at hand.
He was lying on soft, mossy ground, with shady trees above his head, and by him knelt Blancha pouring cold water upon his forehead. The scene had assuredly changed. Back across his mind rushed the lately occurring events, and he groaned with horror. “The Queen!” he cried, starting up and staring at Blancha; “where is the Queen?”
“Safe, Graviel,” answered the Indian girl, smiling. “She is saved, and moreover, she saved you at the risk of her own fair life. Did she not brave the falling avalanche and mount the rocks to your rescue as you hung suspended by the wrist? She reached you just in time, for the coil was rapidly loosing itself, and in a few moments you would have fallen below. There she supported you until the avalanche had passed, and we were able to come to your assistance. Then she made the lasso fast under your shoulders, and we drew you up, next her, the brave young Queen. Did she not say she would be the last to leave the cave, and did she not speak well and keep her word? Blancha has spoken.”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke. If Graviel had died, the light of life would have left her heart, and darkness would have crept in to take its place. She loved Graviel, and knew it. Therefore her heart beat with a profound gratitude to Aniwee for saving the handsome youth from the jaws of death.
“But where are they?” inquired the young Indian. “How is it that you and I are alone, Blancha?”
“The white Caciques, Piñone, and the Queen are busy drawing up the rifles and fire powder from the raft. They wish to hasten from this spot, and they left me to watch beside you, Graviel,” answered the girl.