That idea, too, was adopted, and in a few minutes the fire was blazing and roaring, while a stream of sparks drifted up merrily from it to be lost in the dusk. Near it the fragments of tree trunks set erect would pass easily, at a great distance and in the dark, for human beings. Then, while Willet watched, Robert and Tayoga knotted the vines with quick and dextrous hands, throwing the cable over a bough, and trying every knot with their double weight. A full two hours they toiled and then they exulted.
"It will reach from the clump of bushes about the fountain to the next clump below, which is low down," said Robert, "and from there we can descend without help."
They called Willet, and the three, leaving the crest which had been such a refuge for them and which they had defended so well, descended to the fountain. At that point they secured their cable with infinite care to the largest of the dwarf trees and let it drop over across a bare space to the next clump of bushes below, a distance that seemed very great, it was so steep. Robert claimed the honor of the first descent, but it was finally conceded to Tayoga, who was a trifle lighter.
The Onondaga fastened securely upon his back his rifle and his pack containing food, and then, grasping the cable firmly with both hands, he began to go down, while his friends watched with great anxiety. He was not obliged to swing clear his whole weight, but was able to brace his feet against the cliff. Thus he steadied the vines, but Robert and Willet nevertheless breathed great sighs of relief, when he reached the bushes below, and detached himself from the cable.
Robert went next and Willet followed. When the three were in the bushes, clinging to their tough and wiry strength, they found that the difficulties, as they invariably do, had decreased. Below them the slope was not so steep by any means, and, by holding to the rocky outcrops and scant bushes, they could make the full descent of the mountain. While they rested for a little space where they were, Robert suddenly began to laugh.
"Is Dagaeoga rejoicing so soon?" asked Tayoga
"Why shouldn't I laugh," replied Robert, "when we have such a good jest?"
"Why, to think of Tandakora sitting at the foot of our peak and watching there three or four days, waiting all the time for us to die of hunger and thirst, and we far to the south. At least he'll see that the mountain doesn't get away, and Tandakora, I take it, has small sense of humor. When he penetrates the full measure of the joke he'll love us none the less. Perhaps, though, De Galissonnière will not mourn, because he knows that if we were taken after a siege he could not save us from the cruelty of the savages."