It was the remnant of the first lasso he had ever owned.

He thought more of it than of any other article he possessed, and he would have surrendered every thing, except Roderick and Marmion, before he would have parted with that piece of a rawhide rope.

It had once saved his uncle's life; and, more than that, Frank himself had been hanged with it.

Yes, as improbable as it may seem, one end of that lasso had been placed around his neck, the other thrown over the hook which supported one of his large pictures, and Frank had been drawn up until his toes only rested on the floor; and all because he refused to tell where he had hidden a key.

Where the rest of the lasso was he did not know.