All being arranged, the old trapper slid silently over the edge of the cliff—Garey and I giving out the rope slowly, and with caution.
Foot by foot, and yard by yard, it was drawn through our hands, by the weight of the descending body—now lost to our sight over the brow of the cliff.
Still slowly, and with caution, we allowed the lazo to pass, taking care that it should glide gradually, so as not to jerk, and cause the body of our comrade to oscillate with too much violence against the rocks.
We were both seated close together, our faces turned to the plain. More than three-quarters of the rope had passed from us, and we were congratulating ourselves that the trial would soon be over, when, to our dismay, the strain ceased with a suddenness that caused both of us to recoil upon our backs! At the same instant, we heard the “twang” of the snapping rope, followed by a sharp cry from below!
We sprang to our feet, and mechanically recommenced hauling upon the rope. The weight was no longer upon it, it was light as packthread, and returned to our hands without effort.
Desisting, we fronted to each other, but not for an explanation. Neither required it; neither uttered a word. The case was clear: the rope had broken; our comrade had been hurled to the earth!
With a simultaneous impulse, we dropped upon our knees; and, crawling forward to the brink of the precipice, looked over and downward. We could see nothing in the dark abysm that frowned below; and we waited till the light should break forth again.
We listened with ears keenly set.
Was it a groan we heard? a cry of agony? No; its repetition told us what it was—the howl of the prairie-wolf. No human voice reached our ears. Alas, no! Even a cry of pain would have been welcome, since it would have told us our comrade still lived. But no, he was silent—dead—perhaps broken to atoms!
It was long ere the lightning gleamed again. Before it did we heard voices. They came from the bottom of the cliff directly under us; but there were two, and neither was the voice of the trapper. It is easy to distinguish the full intonation of the Saxon from the shrill treble of the sons of Anahuac. The voices were those of our foes.