Gently and gradually was it drawn up, till it hung like a hammock across the chasm—just as we had seen it on first looking out of the hut.
A short interval elapsed; and then the voice of the bandit was heard calling to us to come over.
“Vengan ustedes!” he cried, encouragingly. “You need have no fear. The puente is perfectly safe. If you cross quickly you may yet overtake—”
I waited to hear no more. Whether the man meant treason or not, I was determined to be on the other side; and, seizing hold of the sipo, which served as a sort of hand-rail, I scrambled across the chasm.
My comrades, agile as I, swarmed after me—two or three staying to keep guard over the captives already secured.
“Now, sir!” I said to the brigand, as soon as we had secured footing upon the opposite side, “You’ve earned your thousand dollars by showing us the way to get across. On the word of an American officer I promise it shall be paid you; and another like sum if you guide us to the spot where I can find Torreano Carrasco.”
I spoke with a serious air, and in a confidential tone—my confidence designed to tempt the cupidity of the brigand.
It was not misplaced. It produced the effect intended.
“Bueno!” replied he, with an assenting movement of the head; “It’s only a step from here,” he continued in a stage whisper. “Our captain thinks himself safe, because nobody—except one of ourselves—could have brought you over the quebrada. Nos vamos! In twenty minutes time you will see your Mercedes.”
My impatience to be off hindered me from questioning the guide about his last speech; though it struck me as singular, he should know aught of my relations with the captive of Carrasco. I had forgotten that the robber-chief had shouted across the chasm, loud enough to be heard by our prisoner.