Another of the blankets already described was very artistically doubled and folded into the resemblance of a man, and then the lasso was attached to it.  The Apaches experimented with it for several minutes before putting it to the test, but at last everything was satisfactory, and it was launched.  The aborigines seemed to comprehend what the trouble was with the other, and they avoided repeating the error.

When they began cautiously lowering the bundle, the six gathered as close to the margin as was prudent to await the result.  Their interest was intense, for they had mapped out their programme, and much depended upon the result of this venture.  But among the half dozen there was no one who was more nervously interested than Fred Munson, who felt that the fate of Mickey O’Rooney was trembling in the balance.

CHAPTER V.

MINING AND COUNTERMINING

Fred expected every moment to catch the dull crack of the rifle from the subterranean regions as a signal that Mickey O’Rooney had neither closed his eyes to the impending peril, nor had given way to despair at the trying position in which he was placed.  But the stillness remained unbroken, while the lasso was steadily paid out by the dusky hands of the swarthy warrior, whose motions were closely watched by the others.

Lower and lower it descended as the coils lying at his knees were steadily unwound, until the disturbed lad was certain the bottom of the cavern was nearly reached, and still all was silent as the tomb.

“I’m sure I would hear his gun if he fired it,” he said, worried and distressed by what was taking place before his eyes; “and if I did not, I could tell by the way they acted whenever he pulled trigger.  What can he be doing?”

The lad thought it possible that his friend was absent in some distant part of the cave hunting for him, and was, therefore, totally unaware of the flank movement that was under way.  It could not be that he was still asleep; he had no fears on that score.  It might be, too, that the Irishman had arrived at the conclusion that the situation had grown so desperate as to warrant him in the dernier resorte he had fixed upon.  If such was the case, then, as Mickey himself might have said, “the jig was up.”

Two or three coils still remained upon the ground when the Apache stopped lowering the lasso, and, looking in the faces of his companions, said something.

“It has either reached the bottom of the cave, or else Mickey has fired at it,” said Fred, who became more excited than ever.

He had caught no sound resembling a shot, and he concluded that it must be the former, as was really the case.  In a few seconds the Indian began drawing up the lasso again, and a short time thereafter the roll of blanket was brought to the surface.  It was carefully examined by all the group.  The dirt on it proved that it had rested on the bottom of the cave, but there were no marks to show that it had received any attention at the hands of any one there.