The Rifle Rangers Part 54

And a fresh peal of ruffian laughter rang out.

The rope was now placed around my neck in a running noose. The other end had been pa.s.sed over the tree, and lay coiled near the edge of the cliff. Lopez held it in his hand a short distance above the coil, in order to direct its movements.

"All ready there, Lopez?" cried the leader.

"Yes, Captain."

"Swing off the captain, then--no, not yet; let him look at the floor on which he is going to dance; that is but fair."

I had been drawn forward until my feet projected over the edge of the precipice, and close to the root of the tree. I was now forced into a sitting posture, so that I might look below, my limbs hanging over.

Strange to say, I could not resist doing exactly what my tormentor wished. Under other circ.u.mstances the sight would have been to me appalling; but my nerves were strung by the protracted agony I had been forced to endure.

The precipice on whose verge I sat formed a side of one of those yawning gulfs common in Spanish America, and known by the name _barrancas_. It seemed as if a mountain had been scooped out and carried away. Not two hundred yards horizontally distant was the twin jaw of the chasm, like a black burnt wall; yet the torrent that roared and foamed between them was full six hundred feet below my position! I could have flung the stump of a cigar upon the water; in fact, an object dropping vertically from where I sat--for it was a projecting point--must have fallen plumb into the stream.

It was not unlike the canon where we had tossed over the dogs; but it was higher, and altogether more h.e.l.l-like and horrible.

As I looked down, several small birds, whose species I did not stay to distinguish, were screaming below, and an eagle on his broad, bold wing came soaring over the abyss, and flapped up to my very face.

"Well, Captain," broke in the sharp voice of Jarauta, "what do you think of it? A nice soft floor to dance upon, isn't it, Lopez?"

"Yes, Captain."

"All ready there? Stop! some music; we must have music: how can he dance without music? _Hola_, Sanchez, where's your bugle?"

"Here, Captain!"

"Strike up, then! Play `Yankee Doodle'. Ha! ha! ha! `Yankee Doodle', do you hear?"

"Yes, Captain," answered the man; and the next moment the well-known strains of the American national air sounded upon my ear, producing a strange, sad feeling I shall never forget.

"Now, Lopez!" cried the padre.

I was expecting to be swung out, when I heard him again shout, "Stay!"

at the same time stopping the music.

"By heavens! Lopez, I have a better plan," he cried: "why did I not think of it before? It's not too late yet. Ha! ha! ha! _Carambo_!

They shall dance upon their heads! That's better--isn't it, Lopez?"

"Yes, Captain."

A cheer from the Jarochos announced their approval of this change in the programme.

The padre made a sign to Lopez, who approached him, appearing to receive some directions.

I did not at first comprehend the novelty that was about to be introduced. I was not kept long in ignorance. One of the Jarochos, seizing me by the collar, dragged me back from the ledge, and transferred the noose from my neck to my ankles. Horror heaped upon horror! I was to be _hung head downwards_!

"That will be much prettier--won't it, Lopez?"

"Yes, Captain."

"The gentleman will have time to make himself ready for heaven before he dies--won't he, Lopez?"

"Yes Captain."

"Take out the gag--let him have his tongue free; he'll need that to pray with--won't he, Lopez?"

"Yes, Captain."

One of the Jarochos jerked the bayonet roughly from my mouth, almost dislocating my jaw. The power of speech was gone. I could not, if I had wished it, have uttered an intelligible word.

"Give him his hands, too; he'll need them to keep off the zopilotes; won't he, Lopez?"

"Yes, Captain."

The thong that bound my wrists was cut, leaving my hands free. I was on my back, my feet towards the precipice. A little to my right stood Lopez, holding the rope that was about to launch me into eternity.

"Now the music--take the music for your cue, Lopez; then jerk him up!"

cried the sharp voice of the fiend.

I shut my eyes, waiting for the pull. It was but a moment, but it seemed a lifetime. There was a dead silence--a stillness like that which precedes the bursting of a rock or the firing of a jubilee-gun.

Then I heard the first note of the bugle, and along with it a crack--the crack of a rifle; a man staggered over me, besprinkling my face with blood, and, falling forward, disappeared!

Then came the pluck upon my ankles, and I was jerked head downwards into the empty air. I felt my feet touching the branches above, and, throwing up my arms, I grasped one, and swung my body upwards. After two or three efforts I lay along the main trunk, which I embraced with the hug of despair. I looked downward. A man was hanging below--far below--at the end of the lazo! It was Lopez. I knew his scarlet manga at a glance. He was hanging by the thigh in a snarl of the rope.

His hat had fallen off. I could see the red blood running over his face and dripping from his long, snaky locks. He hung head down. I could see that he was dead!

The hard thong was cutting my ankles, and--oh, heaven!--under our united weight the roots were cracking! Appalling thought! "_The tree will give way_!" I held fast with one arm. I drew forth my knife-- fortunately I still had one--with the other. I opened the blade with my teeth, and, stretching backward and downward, I drew it across the thong. It parted with a "snig", and the red object left me like a flash of light. There was a plunge upon the black water below--a plunge and a few white bubbles; but the body of the Jarocho, with its scarlet trappings, was seen no more after that plunge.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

A VERY SHORT TRIAL.

During all this time shots were ringing over me. I could hear the shouts and cheering of men, the trampling of heavy hoofs, and the clas.h.i.+ng of sabres. I knew that some strange deliverance had reached us. I knew that a skirmish was going on above me, but I could see nothing. I was below the level of the cliff.

I lay in a terrible suspense, listening. I dared not change my posture--I dared not move. The weight of the Jarocho's body had hitherto held my feet securely in the notch; but that was gone, and my ankles were still tied. A movement and my legs might fall off the limb and drag me downward. I was faint, too, from the protracted struggle for life and death, and I hugged the tree and held on like a wounded squirrel.

The shots seemed less frequent, the shouts appeared to recede from the cliffs. Then I heard a cheer--an Anglo-Saxon cheer--an American cheer, and the next moment a well-known voice rang in my ears.

"By the livin' catamount, he's hyur yit! Whooray--whoop! Niver say die! Hold on, Cap'n, teeth an' toenail! Hyur, boys! clutch on, a lot o' yer! Quick!--hook my claws, Nat! Now pull--all thegether!--Hooray!"

I felt a strong hand grasping the collar of my coat, and the next moment I was raised from my perch and landed upon the top of the cliff.

I looked around upon my deliverers. Lincoln was dancing like a lunatic, uttering his wild, half-Indian yells. A dozen men, in the dark-green uniform of the "mounted rifles", stood looking on and laughing at this grotesque exhibition. Close by another party were guarding some prisoners, while a hundred others were seen in scattered groups along the ridge, returning from the pursuit of the Jarochos, whom they had completely routed.

I recognised Twing, and Hennessy, and Hillis, and several other officers whom I had met before. We were soon _en rapport_, and I could not have received a greater variety of congratulations had it been the hour after my wedding.

Little Jack was the guide of the rescue.