He gently pulled it, to test whether it was free.

No one at that juncture seemed to have hold of it, and, fearful that it would not remain so, the lad gave it a sudden jerk, which brought it far beyond the reach of any one who might be gathered on the sand below.

“That upsets all my calculations,” said Fred, with a sigh.  “The chance of getting out of here is poorer than ever.  I am afraid Mickey is in a scrape where there ain’t much show of his helping himself!”

The lad remembered, however, that his friend still had one resort—­the last one—­at his command.  When it became absolutely apparent that no other way was open, he would make the plunge down the stream, and risk all in the single effort to dive from the inside to the outside of the cave.

“I don’t want him to try that, just yet,” added Fred, as he lay upon the ground, carefully considering the matter; “for I think that will wind up the whole thing.”

The boy seemed to be considering every phase of the question, and he debated with himself for a long time whether he couldn’t do something for his friend.  He thought of going back to the entrance by which he had escaped—­thanks to the assistance of the wolf—­reenter it, without going to a distance which would cause any danger of losing his way, and signal to him.  The great obstacle to this was that, as he could readily see from the distance he had gone over since emerging therefrom, it would be utterly impossible to send a signal so far, through such a chamber of sound as the cave had proven itself to be.  There remained the same probability that the Apaches would hear it as soon as Mickey, and they would be stupid beyond their kind if they had not already gained a correct idea of the situation.

Still, it was possible to see how the Irishman could succeed.  Men placed in fully as desperate situations as he had pulled through by showing nerve and readiness of resource when the critical moment should arrive.

Mickey O’Rooney possessed originality and pluck.  He had acquired considerable experience and knowledge of Indian “devilments” on his way across the plains, and, if the Apaches comprehended the situation, it was not to be supposed that he was not posted fully as well.  If he could see no chance of getting a pull at the rope, he could easily keep out of the way of the redskins.  He had no fear of meeting any of them singly, and if he could arrange it so as to encounter them one after another, and at his own convenience, he might clear the track in that fashion.

As it was, therefore, Fred Munson could only await for the issue of events.  He was powerless to do anything until the sign should be made by his friend at the other end of the rope.

For fully two hours things remained in statu quo.  The lad lay upon the ground close to the opening, listening, looking and thinking so intently that there was no danger of his falling asleep.  The profound stillness remained unbroken during all that time.  The murmur of the cascade had a faint, distant sound, as if it came from the ocean, many long leagues away, but there was nothing more—­not even a signal from Mickey, who, if he had any plans, was working them with admirable secrecy.  At the end of that time the lad concluded that it would be best to lower the lasso again.