"By holding on to the lasso, like l'Encuerado and M. Sumichrast," answered the boy.
"The grasp of your hands is not firm enough; you must not think of it; I have no wish to risk your neck."
"Oh! dear father! do let me try."
"Certainly not; for if your trial failed, you would not be in a position to try again."
"Then Sumichrast . . . slid down the cord to the tree."
Not without some slight vexation Lucien was tied to the lasso, while Gringalet, astonished, barked round us.
"Patience! patience!" I exclaimed to the dog; "it will be your turn next, and then, perhaps, you will not seem so pleased."
I let the lasso slowly down, and the boy was soon safely lodged among the branches of the tree. With care equal to mine, and with still firmer knots, l'Encuerado tied the cord afresh. Then, leaning over the precipice, I heard Sumichrast's voice ordering the Indian to let the improvised cable slowly down. Seeing that the port was safely reached, and relieved of a great care, I began tying Gringalet, who hadn't left off howling since his young master disappeared. In spite of his terror, I launched the dog into the air; he struggled, howled, and nearly evaded l'Encuerado's friendly grasp; the latter, as he again let him down, tried to explain the inutility of his struggles, and the danger of breaking loose. At length, having for the last time examined the stakes and the cross-piece, I also descended. I then shook the lasso, and at once succeeded in disengaging it.
I saw below me Sumichrast and Lucien, seated on a narrow projection, which led by a rocky declivity down to the foot of the mountain. Soon I joined them, followed by the Indian. We had fixed the cross-bar between two stout branches, and for a long time, without loosening the stick, I shook the cord. At last, tired out, and about to leave it, the piece of wood suddenly gave way, and nearly fell on me.