Every one of the mustangs raised their heads and looked up at the stranger, and one or two gave a faint whinney, as if to inquire the business of such a character with them.

“I don’t believe any of you can go like my Hurricane that I had to leave at home; but I can’t have him, and I would be mighty glad to take one of you—­that is, if Mickey could go along, for I don’t intend to leave him, so long as I know he’s alive.  You seem pretty well fixed, so I’ll let you alone till we get a chance to turn you to account, and you can eat and get yourself in good condition.”

He took a good long draught of the refreshing water, and then made a little survey of his surroundings.

“I should like to know whether those six Indians were all looking for me.  Maybe Lone Wolf has found out that I gave the three the slip, and he sent a half-dozen fresh ones to look me up.  They were all strangers to me, and I am sure I never saw them before.  Lone Wolf seems to want me very bad, and if these don’t bring me back pretty soon, he may send somebody after them.”

A careful survey of all the suspicious points failed to show him anything alarming, and he made his way back to the mouth of the cavern, where he sat down to await the moment for him to lower the lasso that he hoped was to give Mickey O’Rooney a chance for his life.  It seemed to him that it would not be safe to attempt it until the sun went down.  His theory was that the Apaches would not remain directly beneath the opening all the time, but that there would be a chance for the Irishman to creep up without detection.  He would be looking for the lasso, and in the darkness might be able to ascend it without discovery.

The lad hoped that all the redskins had reached the conclusion that both he and the man were outside; and, finding that it was out of the question for them to escape by the opening, which was at such a distance over their heads, had scattered to search for some other egress.  It was not impossible that such was the case, and if it were, it placed the situation in a light by no means discouraging.

It was hardly dark when Fred Munson carefully shoved the end of the rope over the edge of the opening, and let it descend slowly, gently and noiselessly to the bottom, permitting it to pass through his hands in such a way that he could tell the instant it was disturbed.  When he knew that it had struck, he waited for a “bite.”

To his astonishment, it came within the next five minutes.  He was startled by feeling a decided pull repeated several times.

The situation was so delicately critical that it would not do to speak nor whisper, nor even to utter their whistle, no matter how cautiously made.  So, by way of reply, Fred gave the lasso, several responsive jerks, intended to signify that everything was ready, and his friend might come ahead.

A moment later the lariat was jerked from his hand, showing that a heavy weight had suddenly fastened upon it, and the man was making his way upward from the cave.