Chapter Fifty Five.Bear-Hunt by Torch-Light.As soon as it was daylight again, they went to work once more, and finished their preparations for entering the cave, and at a tolerably early hour they took the route for the ravine.Two of them carried theimprovisedladder; which was only a slender pine-tree, of about forty feet long, notched by the axe, the notches being at intervals of a foot to eighteen inches apart. At its more slender part, there were no notches required, as the natural branches of the tree, lopped into short stumps, were to be used as foot-holds, and would serve the purpose better than any notches.Forty feet of even the slenderest tree when green would be load sufficient for a couple of stout men. This one was not green; for they had been fortunate enough to find one that had fallen long ago, and that was now quite dead and dry. For all that, it “tied” the united strength of Caspar and Ossaroo to carry it along, for it was they who performed this duty. Karl was loaded with the guns, torches, and the great spear of the shikarree. Fritz carried nothing except his tail; and this he bore aloft in a swaggerish manner, as though he knew that something more than common was designed, and that grand game was to be killed that day.They moved but slowly; but after about two hours’ walking, including many stoppages and rests, they arrived within the ravine and under the ledge.It occupied about another hour to erect the ladder. It was placed nearly opposite the mouth of the cave, instead of by the path; for there appeared a favourable crevice in the rocks, which promised to hold it steady, and keep it from turning round; an important consideration with so rude a ladder. The upper end of the tree was laid into the crevice, and fitted exactly. The lower end was rendered firm by something like a cartload of heavy boulders being built around it. It could neither shift nor turn. It was fast as a shut trap. Nothing now remained but to ascend, light the torches, and enter the cave.A question, however, arose, whether Bruin might still be inside? It was doubtful enough, and there was no means of knowing. He had ample time to have gone out, since they left the place on the preceding evening, and, very likely, had wandered forth for a nocturnal ramble; but, had he returned? was he now “at home” to receive them? or, was he still abroad, robbing the bushes of their fruit, and the bees of their honey?No one could tell; there was no sign visible; no hint far visitors. The door was open, and all who came night enter or not, as they pleased.For a while, our hunters had some hesitation about this matter, and debated the point as to whether it might not be better to lie in ambush, and watch for Bruin going out or returning home. Most certainly the cave was his home. The path leading up had all the appearance of being much used. The rocks were scratched by his claws, and discoloured by his feet—his, or those of other animals. Karl had noticed all this, when making his first ascent; therefore, there need be no fear but that the bear would come back in one direction or another.He might be trapped, and that would save a struggle; but this mode was not to the liking either of Caspar or Ossaroo, and Fritz apparently voted for a bear-fight.Ossaroo, especially, declared that there was not the slightest danger in attacking him, armed as they were; not so much as there would be in an encounter with a sambur stag. He suggested, moreover, that it might be days before they would set eyes upon him; that he might go to sleep in his den, and lie there for a week without showing himself; and, therefore, it would never do to wait for him. He must be looked for within the cave, and assailed in his gloomy stronghold. So counselled the Hindoo hunter.But it needed no argument. Karl alone was for the prudent way of setting a trap, and capturing the animal without risk; but Karl was as anxious as either of the others to explore the cave. The words of Caspar had made a deep impression upon him; and, slight as was the hope that Caspar’s conjecture might be true, still there was something in it. Itmightbe so. Once more, it was like the drowning man catching at the straw.Without farther hesitation the ladder was set up, as already described; and, shortly after, all four—for Fritz is to be counted in this adventure—stood upon the ledge in front of the cavern’s mouth.Each had now possession of his own weapons: Karl, his rifle; Caspar, the double-barrel; and Ossaroo, his spear, bow and arrows, hatchet and knife.There were two torches, each one nearly a yard in length, with handles that measured nearly another yard. They were made of splints from the pine-trees, that had been shared off while dressing the latter for the bridge. They were now quite dry, and, tied together in a bundle, would burn splendidly. They were no novelty, these torches. They had made similar ones before, and tried them; and, therefore, they could depend upon them to give them light within the cave.They entered without lighting the torches, intending only to use them when it became necessary. Perhaps, after all, the cave might be of small extent, though Karl believed that such was not the case. He had noted that the bear had gone a good way back, as he was able to judge by his snorts and growling.This point was soon settled. When they had proceeded many paces from the entrance, and the light of the sun began to fail them, they could perceive that the cavern grew wider and higher, and, like a great, black gateway, yawned far back into the rocks. Apparently, there was no termination to it!The tinder which they had prepared was now set on fire; and the ends of the torches, touched with pine-tree resin, were soon ignited, and began to blaze.All at once the cavern shone with a thousand lights, which had not been hitherto observed. The sparkling stalactites projecting downward from the roof, with here and there the drops of clear filtered water, gave back the glare from the torches in a thousand coruscations. It seemed to our young hunters as though they were treading the famed halls of Aladdin’s palace.On they marched along the wide passage, holding their torches on high, and, at intervals, pausing to examine some nook or chamber that opened right or left—still searching for the bear. As yet, they had seen no traces of the animal; though, from the excited baying of Fritz, it was plain to them that either Bruin himself, or some other quadruped, had passed up the cave before them. The dog was evidently upon a hot scent, and lifting it as fast as they could follow him.A little after, Fritz doubled to one side, and appeared busy with some object by the side of the cave. The hunters were under the impression that the game had been found, and halted, each bringing his piece to the ready.After a moment, however, Fritz glided out, and again sprang forward on the trail. The torches were carried up to where Fritz had made his temporary pause, and, under their light, a large pile of withered leaves and grass was made visible. It was the snug den of Bruin—still warm where his huge carcass had lain; but the cunning brute was no longer “abed.” He had been roused by the noises of his enemies, and had retreated farther into the cavern.Fritz was again moving forward along the trail, uttering an occasional “growl” as he went. He was by no means a fast dog at taking up a scent, nor yet on the run. These were not his qualities. But he was stanch and sure, and desperate when once he grappled with the game. So sure was he, that, whenever he started off upon a trail, you might rely upon it, with perfect confidence, that the game was before you.The three hunters thought no longer of looking for the bear anywhere else than before the snout of Fritz; and, therefore, the chase became simplified to keeping the hound in view. The nature of the ground—here covered with blocks of loose stone, there with huge stalagmites—prevented the dog from making rapid progress. The bear had often doubled and halted, no doubt having some difficulty himself in making way in the darkness; and this doubling caused much delay to Fritz; so much, that the torch-bearers could generally keep him in sight.Now and again, he became lost to view; and then there was a halt, and some moments of indecision, which were ended only by the long howl of the hound echoing through the cavern, and guiding them to his whereabouts.You will be surprised that they should at any time have lost the chase. You will fancy that, by keeping on, they must overtake Fritz in time, or meet him returning.Such might have been true, had there been only one passage through this stupendous cavern; but, instead of one, they saw scores of vaulted aisles forking at intervals, and traversing in very different directions. They had long since turned both to the right and the left—more than once turned—without any other guide than the baying of the hound, or the view of his yellow body, as he scrambled along the trail. An immense cavern if was, full of ways, and passages, and halls, and chambers; many of them so like each other, that the hunters could not help thinking they were running in a maze, and going repeatedly over the same ground!By this time Karl had begun to reflect, and his reflection was, that they were proceeding rashly. Certain ideas were rising in his mind—ideas somewhat undefined—but one among the rest was, that, going as they were, without taking either “bearings or distances,” they might get lost!Before he had time to call his companions to a halt and take some deliberation about the matter, a peculiar noise struck upon their ears—a noise that was easily recognised as being made by the united voices of two angry animals—a dog and a bear.Beyond a doubt it was Bruin and Fritz—beyond a doubt they were “in grips!”
As soon as it was daylight again, they went to work once more, and finished their preparations for entering the cave, and at a tolerably early hour they took the route for the ravine.
Two of them carried theimprovisedladder; which was only a slender pine-tree, of about forty feet long, notched by the axe, the notches being at intervals of a foot to eighteen inches apart. At its more slender part, there were no notches required, as the natural branches of the tree, lopped into short stumps, were to be used as foot-holds, and would serve the purpose better than any notches.
Forty feet of even the slenderest tree when green would be load sufficient for a couple of stout men. This one was not green; for they had been fortunate enough to find one that had fallen long ago, and that was now quite dead and dry. For all that, it “tied” the united strength of Caspar and Ossaroo to carry it along, for it was they who performed this duty. Karl was loaded with the guns, torches, and the great spear of the shikarree. Fritz carried nothing except his tail; and this he bore aloft in a swaggerish manner, as though he knew that something more than common was designed, and that grand game was to be killed that day.
They moved but slowly; but after about two hours’ walking, including many stoppages and rests, they arrived within the ravine and under the ledge.
It occupied about another hour to erect the ladder. It was placed nearly opposite the mouth of the cave, instead of by the path; for there appeared a favourable crevice in the rocks, which promised to hold it steady, and keep it from turning round; an important consideration with so rude a ladder. The upper end of the tree was laid into the crevice, and fitted exactly. The lower end was rendered firm by something like a cartload of heavy boulders being built around it. It could neither shift nor turn. It was fast as a shut trap. Nothing now remained but to ascend, light the torches, and enter the cave.
A question, however, arose, whether Bruin might still be inside? It was doubtful enough, and there was no means of knowing. He had ample time to have gone out, since they left the place on the preceding evening, and, very likely, had wandered forth for a nocturnal ramble; but, had he returned? was he now “at home” to receive them? or, was he still abroad, robbing the bushes of their fruit, and the bees of their honey?
No one could tell; there was no sign visible; no hint far visitors. The door was open, and all who came night enter or not, as they pleased.
For a while, our hunters had some hesitation about this matter, and debated the point as to whether it might not be better to lie in ambush, and watch for Bruin going out or returning home. Most certainly the cave was his home. The path leading up had all the appearance of being much used. The rocks were scratched by his claws, and discoloured by his feet—his, or those of other animals. Karl had noticed all this, when making his first ascent; therefore, there need be no fear but that the bear would come back in one direction or another.
He might be trapped, and that would save a struggle; but this mode was not to the liking either of Caspar or Ossaroo, and Fritz apparently voted for a bear-fight.
Ossaroo, especially, declared that there was not the slightest danger in attacking him, armed as they were; not so much as there would be in an encounter with a sambur stag. He suggested, moreover, that it might be days before they would set eyes upon him; that he might go to sleep in his den, and lie there for a week without showing himself; and, therefore, it would never do to wait for him. He must be looked for within the cave, and assailed in his gloomy stronghold. So counselled the Hindoo hunter.
But it needed no argument. Karl alone was for the prudent way of setting a trap, and capturing the animal without risk; but Karl was as anxious as either of the others to explore the cave. The words of Caspar had made a deep impression upon him; and, slight as was the hope that Caspar’s conjecture might be true, still there was something in it. Itmightbe so. Once more, it was like the drowning man catching at the straw.
Without farther hesitation the ladder was set up, as already described; and, shortly after, all four—for Fritz is to be counted in this adventure—stood upon the ledge in front of the cavern’s mouth.
Each had now possession of his own weapons: Karl, his rifle; Caspar, the double-barrel; and Ossaroo, his spear, bow and arrows, hatchet and knife.
There were two torches, each one nearly a yard in length, with handles that measured nearly another yard. They were made of splints from the pine-trees, that had been shared off while dressing the latter for the bridge. They were now quite dry, and, tied together in a bundle, would burn splendidly. They were no novelty, these torches. They had made similar ones before, and tried them; and, therefore, they could depend upon them to give them light within the cave.
They entered without lighting the torches, intending only to use them when it became necessary. Perhaps, after all, the cave might be of small extent, though Karl believed that such was not the case. He had noted that the bear had gone a good way back, as he was able to judge by his snorts and growling.
This point was soon settled. When they had proceeded many paces from the entrance, and the light of the sun began to fail them, they could perceive that the cavern grew wider and higher, and, like a great, black gateway, yawned far back into the rocks. Apparently, there was no termination to it!
The tinder which they had prepared was now set on fire; and the ends of the torches, touched with pine-tree resin, were soon ignited, and began to blaze.
All at once the cavern shone with a thousand lights, which had not been hitherto observed. The sparkling stalactites projecting downward from the roof, with here and there the drops of clear filtered water, gave back the glare from the torches in a thousand coruscations. It seemed to our young hunters as though they were treading the famed halls of Aladdin’s palace.
On they marched along the wide passage, holding their torches on high, and, at intervals, pausing to examine some nook or chamber that opened right or left—still searching for the bear. As yet, they had seen no traces of the animal; though, from the excited baying of Fritz, it was plain to them that either Bruin himself, or some other quadruped, had passed up the cave before them. The dog was evidently upon a hot scent, and lifting it as fast as they could follow him.
A little after, Fritz doubled to one side, and appeared busy with some object by the side of the cave. The hunters were under the impression that the game had been found, and halted, each bringing his piece to the ready.
After a moment, however, Fritz glided out, and again sprang forward on the trail. The torches were carried up to where Fritz had made his temporary pause, and, under their light, a large pile of withered leaves and grass was made visible. It was the snug den of Bruin—still warm where his huge carcass had lain; but the cunning brute was no longer “abed.” He had been roused by the noises of his enemies, and had retreated farther into the cavern.
Fritz was again moving forward along the trail, uttering an occasional “growl” as he went. He was by no means a fast dog at taking up a scent, nor yet on the run. These were not his qualities. But he was stanch and sure, and desperate when once he grappled with the game. So sure was he, that, whenever he started off upon a trail, you might rely upon it, with perfect confidence, that the game was before you.
The three hunters thought no longer of looking for the bear anywhere else than before the snout of Fritz; and, therefore, the chase became simplified to keeping the hound in view. The nature of the ground—here covered with blocks of loose stone, there with huge stalagmites—prevented the dog from making rapid progress. The bear had often doubled and halted, no doubt having some difficulty himself in making way in the darkness; and this doubling caused much delay to Fritz; so much, that the torch-bearers could generally keep him in sight.
Now and again, he became lost to view; and then there was a halt, and some moments of indecision, which were ended only by the long howl of the hound echoing through the cavern, and guiding them to his whereabouts.
You will be surprised that they should at any time have lost the chase. You will fancy that, by keeping on, they must overtake Fritz in time, or meet him returning.
Such might have been true, had there been only one passage through this stupendous cavern; but, instead of one, they saw scores of vaulted aisles forking at intervals, and traversing in very different directions. They had long since turned both to the right and the left—more than once turned—without any other guide than the baying of the hound, or the view of his yellow body, as he scrambled along the trail. An immense cavern if was, full of ways, and passages, and halls, and chambers; many of them so like each other, that the hunters could not help thinking they were running in a maze, and going repeatedly over the same ground!
By this time Karl had begun to reflect, and his reflection was, that they were proceeding rashly. Certain ideas were rising in his mind—ideas somewhat undefined—but one among the rest was, that, going as they were, without taking either “bearings or distances,” they might get lost!
Before he had time to call his companions to a halt and take some deliberation about the matter, a peculiar noise struck upon their ears—a noise that was easily recognised as being made by the united voices of two angry animals—a dog and a bear.
Beyond a doubt it was Bruin and Fritz—beyond a doubt they were “in grips!”
Chapter Fifty Six.Lost in the Cave.The scene of their encounter was at no great distance—about twenty yards off; and, guided by the loud growling and “worrying,” the hunters easily directed themselves towards the spot. After stumbling over stalagmites, and now and then hitting their heads against the projecting points of the stalactites, they arrived upon the ground; and the glare of the torches was thrown upon two animals—a dog and a bear. They were near the middle of an immense open hall, or chamber of the cavern. Both were in fighting attitudes; the bear standing upon the flat top of a rock—about three feet above the surrounding level—and the dog assailing his leg, now on one side of the rock, and now upon the other. The bear was defending himself with his huge paws; and at intervals flung the forepart of his body downward, with the design of seizing the hound in his hug.Fritz well knew the danger of being embraced in the fore-arms of a bear, and therefore made his attacks from behind; springing up at the hind-quarters of Bruin, and biting him in the hams. To avoid these assaults upon his rear, the bear kept turning round and round, as though he was spinning about upon a pivot!It was altogether a laughable sight to witness the curious contest between the two quadrupeds, and had the hunters been pursuing the bear for mere amusement, they would have permitted the fight to go on for some time without interfering in it. But amusement was just then out of the question. The fat of Bruin was a thing of far more importance; and now that the hunters had become aware of the vast size and endless labyrinths of the cavern, they perceived that it was quite possible in such a place to lose both the bear and his fat. He might have escaped them as easily as if he were in the open woods.With these ideas, therefore, they were only too anxious to put an end to the struggle, and secure the game.The bear could not have offered them a better opportunity. His position upon the rock rendered him a conspicuous mark, both for the bullets of the guns and the arrows of Ossaroo. Besides, there was no danger of wounding Fritz, if good aim was taken by the marksmen.Good aimwastaken—a couple of loud reports echoed through the cave—one of Ossaroo’s arrows whistled, and penetrated the thick shaggy skin—and the next moment the huge black mass rolled down from the rock, and lay back uppermost, kicking his paws about in the last throes of death. Then Fritz leaped upon his upturned breast, seized the white throat between his jaws, and choked and worried at it till the last breath was squeezed out of poor Bruin’s body, that the next moment lay quite limp and motionless.Fritz was now scolded off, and the torches were held near, in order that the hunters might examine the game they had killed. A splendid specimen the bear was—one of the biggest and fattest of his kind; and no doubt would yield them a large amount of the precious “grease.”They had scarcely made this reflection when another of far different character forced itself upon their minds, and compelled them to stand gazing at each other with looks of mute inquiry. Each waited for one of the others to speak; and although no one had yet said a word, all equally felt that they were in a dilemma.What dilemma? you will ask. The game had been secured—what difficulty would there be in dragging it out of the cave, and afterwards taking it home to their hut?All this may appear easy enough to you, because you do not yet understand the situation in which the hunters were placed—you do not comprehend why they stood gazing upon each other with troubled looks.Why they did so was simply this:—while examining the carcass of the bear, they observed that theirtorches were burnt out! Not quite to the ends, it is true; but so near that they could not be depended on to light them a score of yards. They were already flickering and burning dimly—in a few seconds more they would be quite extinguished; and what then?Ay, what then? that was the thought that was troubling them—that it was that caused them to stand looking anxiously towards one another.Even they themselves did not fully comprehend the peril of their situation. They saw that they were going to be left in darkness—the perfect darkness of a dungeon—but it had not yet occurred to them thatthey might never again see the light! That appalling thought had not yet shaped itself in their minds—they only believed that the want of torches would put them to much inconvenience—they would have great trouble, and perhaps difficulty, in finding their way out of the cave, and getting the bear along with them—they might first have to grope their way out, and then get fresh torches, and return for the game; and all this would take a good deal of time, and give them a large amount of trouble; but never mind that—the prize they had obtained in the fat of the bear, and his fine hide—which would make a grand winter robe—would repay them for all.Ha! it was only after their torches had gone quite out, and they were left in total darkness—only after they had groped and groped, and wandered about for hours—now sprawling over loose rocks, now tumbling down into deep clefts—only after they had gone through all this, and still saw no light—no sign by which they could even guess at their whereabouts, that they became fully alive to the peril of their situation, and began to experience the awful apprehension already expressed—thatthey might never again see the light!And such in reality was their fear, when, after hours spent in fruitless wandering, they stood holding each other’s hands, crouching and cowering together in the midst of that amorphous darkness!
The scene of their encounter was at no great distance—about twenty yards off; and, guided by the loud growling and “worrying,” the hunters easily directed themselves towards the spot. After stumbling over stalagmites, and now and then hitting their heads against the projecting points of the stalactites, they arrived upon the ground; and the glare of the torches was thrown upon two animals—a dog and a bear. They were near the middle of an immense open hall, or chamber of the cavern. Both were in fighting attitudes; the bear standing upon the flat top of a rock—about three feet above the surrounding level—and the dog assailing his leg, now on one side of the rock, and now upon the other. The bear was defending himself with his huge paws; and at intervals flung the forepart of his body downward, with the design of seizing the hound in his hug.
Fritz well knew the danger of being embraced in the fore-arms of a bear, and therefore made his attacks from behind; springing up at the hind-quarters of Bruin, and biting him in the hams. To avoid these assaults upon his rear, the bear kept turning round and round, as though he was spinning about upon a pivot!
It was altogether a laughable sight to witness the curious contest between the two quadrupeds, and had the hunters been pursuing the bear for mere amusement, they would have permitted the fight to go on for some time without interfering in it. But amusement was just then out of the question. The fat of Bruin was a thing of far more importance; and now that the hunters had become aware of the vast size and endless labyrinths of the cavern, they perceived that it was quite possible in such a place to lose both the bear and his fat. He might have escaped them as easily as if he were in the open woods.
With these ideas, therefore, they were only too anxious to put an end to the struggle, and secure the game.
The bear could not have offered them a better opportunity. His position upon the rock rendered him a conspicuous mark, both for the bullets of the guns and the arrows of Ossaroo. Besides, there was no danger of wounding Fritz, if good aim was taken by the marksmen.
Good aimwastaken—a couple of loud reports echoed through the cave—one of Ossaroo’s arrows whistled, and penetrated the thick shaggy skin—and the next moment the huge black mass rolled down from the rock, and lay back uppermost, kicking his paws about in the last throes of death. Then Fritz leaped upon his upturned breast, seized the white throat between his jaws, and choked and worried at it till the last breath was squeezed out of poor Bruin’s body, that the next moment lay quite limp and motionless.
Fritz was now scolded off, and the torches were held near, in order that the hunters might examine the game they had killed. A splendid specimen the bear was—one of the biggest and fattest of his kind; and no doubt would yield them a large amount of the precious “grease.”
They had scarcely made this reflection when another of far different character forced itself upon their minds, and compelled them to stand gazing at each other with looks of mute inquiry. Each waited for one of the others to speak; and although no one had yet said a word, all equally felt that they were in a dilemma.
What dilemma? you will ask. The game had been secured—what difficulty would there be in dragging it out of the cave, and afterwards taking it home to their hut?
All this may appear easy enough to you, because you do not yet understand the situation in which the hunters were placed—you do not comprehend why they stood gazing upon each other with troubled looks.
Why they did so was simply this:—while examining the carcass of the bear, they observed that theirtorches were burnt out! Not quite to the ends, it is true; but so near that they could not be depended on to light them a score of yards. They were already flickering and burning dimly—in a few seconds more they would be quite extinguished; and what then?
Ay, what then? that was the thought that was troubling them—that it was that caused them to stand looking anxiously towards one another.
Even they themselves did not fully comprehend the peril of their situation. They saw that they were going to be left in darkness—the perfect darkness of a dungeon—but it had not yet occurred to them thatthey might never again see the light! That appalling thought had not yet shaped itself in their minds—they only believed that the want of torches would put them to much inconvenience—they would have great trouble, and perhaps difficulty, in finding their way out of the cave, and getting the bear along with them—they might first have to grope their way out, and then get fresh torches, and return for the game; and all this would take a good deal of time, and give them a large amount of trouble; but never mind that—the prize they had obtained in the fat of the bear, and his fine hide—which would make a grand winter robe—would repay them for all.
Ha! it was only after their torches had gone quite out, and they were left in total darkness—only after they had groped and groped, and wandered about for hours—now sprawling over loose rocks, now tumbling down into deep clefts—only after they had gone through all this, and still saw no light—no sign by which they could even guess at their whereabouts, that they became fully alive to the peril of their situation, and began to experience the awful apprehension already expressed—thatthey might never again see the light!
And such in reality was their fear, when, after hours spent in fruitless wandering, they stood holding each other’s hands, crouching and cowering together in the midst of that amorphous darkness!
Chapter Fifty Seven.A Ramble in the Dark.Their dread was not at all unreasonable, considering the vast extent of the cavern—considering the distance which they knew they had penetrated—considering the various devious and like ways through which they had passed while in pursuit of the bear—and, above all, considering the absolute darkness that now reigned around them. Of course they could see nothing, not even each other; not one of them could have seen the nose upon his own face, had he been looking for it.Place yourself in the midst of complete darkness, and you will wonder how little progress you can make in any direction. Indeed, you cannot follow a right line even were there no impediment in your way.After you have advanced a few steps, your face will begin to turn in a new direction, and perhaps keep turning, until you have gone round the four cardinal points! You need not be told this; “blind man’s buff” will have imparted to you the idea, long ere now. You will remember that, after having made a turn or two, you could not tell to which side of the room you were facing, unless you laid your hand upon the piano, or some piece of furniture, and recognised it by the touch.How just like the blind man in the game, so the three were situated; with the exception that they had no piano—no furniture—no object of any kind—to guide them. They knew not where to turn—they knew not which way to advance—which way to go back.For many minutes, they stood paralysed by the confusion. As already stated, they held each other by the hand, and in this way they stood. Each feared to let the others go, lest he might lose them! Of course this was but an idle tear, as their voices would enable them to keep together; but there was something so awe-inspiring in their situation, that they all felt childish and helpless, and they needed the support of one another.After remaining at rest a while, they started off afresh; holding each other by the hands, as they moved. This precaution was more necessary while they were in motion than at rest. They dreaded that one of their number might fall over some high steep or into a deep hole; and while thus clinging together, the danger would be less—that is, if all three did not go over together.For several hours they wandered about, and, according to their own belief, must have walked many miles; but of course their progress was slow, as they had to feel their way ateverystep. They grew tired with the effort they had to make, and at intervals sat down to rest themselves; but their feelings would not permit them to pause long; and they would up to their feet again, and scramble on as before.For many hours—and many miles, say they—they walked, but saw no ray of light to cheer them—saw nothing, felt nothing that they could recognise. At times they thought they must be far into the mountain—perhaps miles from the entrance of the cavern; at other times they fancied they had gone several times through the same passage; and once or twice they knew they had done so, by recognising the rocks over which they had passed.This gave them a hope that in time they might get acquainted with the different turnings and passages,—and that would have been possible enough; but it would have taken a long time, and what were they to subsist upon while acquiring this knowledge? They thought of this, and saw at once the foolishness of the hope they had conceived.The dog Fritz moved along, sometimes before, sometimes by their side, and sometimes in the rear. He kept silent, seemingly as much frightened as they. They could tell he was there, by hearing at intervals the scratching of his claws upon the rocks, when some boulder lay in the way, and compelled him to scramble over it. What could Fritz do more than they? In such darkness he could not see his nose any more than they? No—but he could make use of that nose to direct himself, which was more than any of his masters could do.“Ha!” shouted Caspar, as this idea passed through his mind. “Ha, brother! Ossaroo! why might not Fritz guide us? Why might he not scent his way out of this horrid dungeon? Surely he must be as tired of it as we are!”“Let us try what may be done,” rejoined Karl, by his tone showing that he had no great hope in the experiment. “Call him up, Caspar! He knows you best.”Caspar addressed the dog by name, adding a few coaxing words, and in an instant Fritz was by his side.“How shall we manage? Leave him to himself?” inquired Caspar.“I fear he will stand still, and not attempt to go ahead of us,” replied Karl.“We can try him.”And as Caspar made this suggestion, all stood silent and listening.They stood a long while to give the dog a fair trial, but he knew not what they wanted, and he remained patiently beside them without manifesting any disposition to leave. The experiment was a failure.“Now,” suggested Karl, “let us urge him forward and follow after—perhaps he will lead us in that way.”Fritz was now commanded to advance, and obeyed the command—for they could hear him start off with a slight whimper; but to their chagrin they found that they could not tell in what direction he had gone. Had he been running on the scent of some animal, his occasional baying would have served to guide them, as it had done while they were chasing the bear. Now, however, the dog ran without noise; and although they could hear an occasional scrape of his claws, yet it was not sufficiently frequent or continuous to guide them. The experiment again failed, and Fritz was whistled back.But it was not without result. Like many other failures, it led to reflection and a rearrangement of the machinery. A better plan soon offered itself to the quick wit of Caspar; and Ossaroo had been thinking of something similar when he cried out—“Tie string to ee tail!”“No,” replied Caspar, “not to his tail, for then he would not go forward; but let us hold him in a leash with the string round his neck, in a regular way. That will be better, I warrant.”No sooner said than done. Thongs and belts were loosed from powder-horns and pouches; a leash was constructed and fastened round the neck of the dog, and he was then hunted forward as before.Caspar handled the straps, and the others followed, guided by Caspar’s voice.In this order they had scrambled along for a hundred yards or more, when the dog began to whimper, and then to bay, as if going upon a trail; and in a moment or two after, he came, all of a sudden, to a stop.Caspar felt by his strong pulling on the leash, that the dog had sprung forward and seized something. He stooped down and felt before him. Instead of the hard cold rocks, his fingers came in contact with a mass of long shaggy hair.Alas! their hopes were dispelled. Instead of conducting to the mouth of the cave, Fritz had only brought them back to the carcass of the bear!
Their dread was not at all unreasonable, considering the vast extent of the cavern—considering the distance which they knew they had penetrated—considering the various devious and like ways through which they had passed while in pursuit of the bear—and, above all, considering the absolute darkness that now reigned around them. Of course they could see nothing, not even each other; not one of them could have seen the nose upon his own face, had he been looking for it.
Place yourself in the midst of complete darkness, and you will wonder how little progress you can make in any direction. Indeed, you cannot follow a right line even were there no impediment in your way.
After you have advanced a few steps, your face will begin to turn in a new direction, and perhaps keep turning, until you have gone round the four cardinal points! You need not be told this; “blind man’s buff” will have imparted to you the idea, long ere now. You will remember that, after having made a turn or two, you could not tell to which side of the room you were facing, unless you laid your hand upon the piano, or some piece of furniture, and recognised it by the touch.
How just like the blind man in the game, so the three were situated; with the exception that they had no piano—no furniture—no object of any kind—to guide them. They knew not where to turn—they knew not which way to advance—which way to go back.
For many minutes, they stood paralysed by the confusion. As already stated, they held each other by the hand, and in this way they stood. Each feared to let the others go, lest he might lose them! Of course this was but an idle tear, as their voices would enable them to keep together; but there was something so awe-inspiring in their situation, that they all felt childish and helpless, and they needed the support of one another.
After remaining at rest a while, they started off afresh; holding each other by the hands, as they moved. This precaution was more necessary while they were in motion than at rest. They dreaded that one of their number might fall over some high steep or into a deep hole; and while thus clinging together, the danger would be less—that is, if all three did not go over together.
For several hours they wandered about, and, according to their own belief, must have walked many miles; but of course their progress was slow, as they had to feel their way ateverystep. They grew tired with the effort they had to make, and at intervals sat down to rest themselves; but their feelings would not permit them to pause long; and they would up to their feet again, and scramble on as before.
For many hours—and many miles, say they—they walked, but saw no ray of light to cheer them—saw nothing, felt nothing that they could recognise. At times they thought they must be far into the mountain—perhaps miles from the entrance of the cavern; at other times they fancied they had gone several times through the same passage; and once or twice they knew they had done so, by recognising the rocks over which they had passed.
This gave them a hope that in time they might get acquainted with the different turnings and passages,—and that would have been possible enough; but it would have taken a long time, and what were they to subsist upon while acquiring this knowledge? They thought of this, and saw at once the foolishness of the hope they had conceived.
The dog Fritz moved along, sometimes before, sometimes by their side, and sometimes in the rear. He kept silent, seemingly as much frightened as they. They could tell he was there, by hearing at intervals the scratching of his claws upon the rocks, when some boulder lay in the way, and compelled him to scramble over it. What could Fritz do more than they? In such darkness he could not see his nose any more than they? No—but he could make use of that nose to direct himself, which was more than any of his masters could do.
“Ha!” shouted Caspar, as this idea passed through his mind. “Ha, brother! Ossaroo! why might not Fritz guide us? Why might he not scent his way out of this horrid dungeon? Surely he must be as tired of it as we are!”
“Let us try what may be done,” rejoined Karl, by his tone showing that he had no great hope in the experiment. “Call him up, Caspar! He knows you best.”
Caspar addressed the dog by name, adding a few coaxing words, and in an instant Fritz was by his side.
“How shall we manage? Leave him to himself?” inquired Caspar.
“I fear he will stand still, and not attempt to go ahead of us,” replied Karl.
“We can try him.”
And as Caspar made this suggestion, all stood silent and listening.
They stood a long while to give the dog a fair trial, but he knew not what they wanted, and he remained patiently beside them without manifesting any disposition to leave. The experiment was a failure.
“Now,” suggested Karl, “let us urge him forward and follow after—perhaps he will lead us in that way.”
Fritz was now commanded to advance, and obeyed the command—for they could hear him start off with a slight whimper; but to their chagrin they found that they could not tell in what direction he had gone. Had he been running on the scent of some animal, his occasional baying would have served to guide them, as it had done while they were chasing the bear. Now, however, the dog ran without noise; and although they could hear an occasional scrape of his claws, yet it was not sufficiently frequent or continuous to guide them. The experiment again failed, and Fritz was whistled back.
But it was not without result. Like many other failures, it led to reflection and a rearrangement of the machinery. A better plan soon offered itself to the quick wit of Caspar; and Ossaroo had been thinking of something similar when he cried out—
“Tie string to ee tail!”
“No,” replied Caspar, “not to his tail, for then he would not go forward; but let us hold him in a leash with the string round his neck, in a regular way. That will be better, I warrant.”
No sooner said than done. Thongs and belts were loosed from powder-horns and pouches; a leash was constructed and fastened round the neck of the dog, and he was then hunted forward as before.
Caspar handled the straps, and the others followed, guided by Caspar’s voice.
In this order they had scrambled along for a hundred yards or more, when the dog began to whimper, and then to bay, as if going upon a trail; and in a moment or two after, he came, all of a sudden, to a stop.
Caspar felt by his strong pulling on the leash, that the dog had sprung forward and seized something. He stooped down and felt before him. Instead of the hard cold rocks, his fingers came in contact with a mass of long shaggy hair.
Alas! their hopes were dispelled. Instead of conducting to the mouth of the cave, Fritz had only brought them back to the carcass of the bear!
Chapter Fifty Eight.Cavern-Life.They were all filled with disappointment, and particularly that the dog, having arrived at the spot where the bear had been killed, would go no farther. Drive him as they would by commands, or coax him by words of encouragement, he would not part from the carcass. Even when carried off to some distance, and let go, he always drew Caspar back to the same spot. It was very vexatious.So thought they at first; but after a little reflection, they began to think better of it; and to recognise in this incident something more than chance. Karl especially thought so, and pointed out to his companions that the hand of Providence had to do with it; and that that same hand would yet conduct them safely out of the dismal dungeon into which they had so imprudently ventured.Karl’s words had a cheering effect; for he pointed out how fortunate it was for them that they had once more found the carcass. But for that they should have had nothing to eat, and, as a matter of course, would have soon perished of hunger.Now, however, that the bear was found, they could subsist upon his flesh for days; and during one of these days they might succeed in reaching the entrance. They would take care not to lose the knowledge of the place where the carcass lay; and whatever excursion they might make from that spot, they should always arrange some clue by which they might return to it.Fortunately for them there was water in the cavern. In many places it dripped from the rocks in sufficient quantity to give them as much as they wanted for drink; and not far off they had crossed a little rivulet that ran down the bottom of one of the great galleries. This they knew they could find again; and, consequently they felt no apprehensions on the score of water.It was a question, then, how long they would be in finding the entrance, and how long they could live upon the flesh of the bear.The finding of Bruin’s carcass had considerably bettered their prospects; and as they gathered around it to dinner, they felt more cheerful than they had done since the moment when they had laid it low.As they ate, it was dark enough around them to have called the meal a supper; and it was long enough since they had eaten their breakfast—though they could not guess how long—but as they had eaten nothing since breakfast, they styled this first meal upon the bear-meat their dinner.No dinner or supper was ever cooked like that—it was not cooked at all! for they had no fire wherewith to cook it.They were not squeamish. A very long interval had transpired since they had eaten their slight breakfast. Karl and Caspar had refrained from the uncooked viand until their appetite could resist no longer; and then the raw flesh of the bear became palatable enough. It was supper time with Ossaroo. His stomach had more easily got over its scruples, and he had bolted his dinner long, long ago; so that when the others sat down to their first meal, Ossaroo was able to join them at his second.Both Karl and Caspar ate heartily enough,—quite as heartily as if a chandelier with its wax-lights had been sparkling over their heads. Perhaps the absence of light was a circumstance in their favour. The huge paws—those “titbits” of the bear’s flesh—constituted their dinner; and hunters will tell you that, boiled, roasted, orraw, a bear’s paw is not bad eating.When they had finished their meal, all three groped their way to where they heard the trickling of water.They found a place where it oozed in a rapid and continuous dripping through the rocks; and, applying their mouths to this subterranean fountain, they were enabled in a few moments to slake their thirst.They then returned to where they had dined; and, being now much wearied with their long-continued exertions, they stretched themselves upon the rocks with the intention of having some sleep. Though their bed was a hard one, it was not cold; for in the interior of great caverns it is never cold. There the temperature is more equable than that of the atmosphere without—being cooler in summer and warmer in winter, so that variety is scarcely known—at all events, the extremes of heat and cold are never felt. This is the ease with the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, and other large caverns; and on this account it has been thought that persons suffering from pulmonary complaints might derive benefit by dwelling in caves. There are many such patients who make their home in the Mammoth; and where a commodious hotel enables them to live in comfort, and even luxury! It is possible enough that the mild and equable temperature that exists under ground may enable the victim of consumption to prolong life for a considerable time: but it is doubtful whether any radical cure can be effected in this way; and the unfortunate sufferer, once he emerges from his subterranean dwelling, will be in as much danger from the insidious disease as before.Little did Karl, Caspar, and Ossaroo, care for the mild atmosphere that surrounded them in the cavern. They would gladly have exchanged it for the hottest country in the torrid zone, or the coldest spot in all the Arctic regions. Biting mosquitos in the former, or biting frost in the latter, would have been more welcome than that mild and gentle climate that surrounded them—that gloomy atmosphere, where sun had never shone, and where snow had never fallen.Notwithstanding their anxiety of mind, their weariness at length overcame them, and all three fell fast asleep.
They were all filled with disappointment, and particularly that the dog, having arrived at the spot where the bear had been killed, would go no farther. Drive him as they would by commands, or coax him by words of encouragement, he would not part from the carcass. Even when carried off to some distance, and let go, he always drew Caspar back to the same spot. It was very vexatious.
So thought they at first; but after a little reflection, they began to think better of it; and to recognise in this incident something more than chance. Karl especially thought so, and pointed out to his companions that the hand of Providence had to do with it; and that that same hand would yet conduct them safely out of the dismal dungeon into which they had so imprudently ventured.
Karl’s words had a cheering effect; for he pointed out how fortunate it was for them that they had once more found the carcass. But for that they should have had nothing to eat, and, as a matter of course, would have soon perished of hunger.
Now, however, that the bear was found, they could subsist upon his flesh for days; and during one of these days they might succeed in reaching the entrance. They would take care not to lose the knowledge of the place where the carcass lay; and whatever excursion they might make from that spot, they should always arrange some clue by which they might return to it.
Fortunately for them there was water in the cavern. In many places it dripped from the rocks in sufficient quantity to give them as much as they wanted for drink; and not far off they had crossed a little rivulet that ran down the bottom of one of the great galleries. This they knew they could find again; and, consequently they felt no apprehensions on the score of water.
It was a question, then, how long they would be in finding the entrance, and how long they could live upon the flesh of the bear.
The finding of Bruin’s carcass had considerably bettered their prospects; and as they gathered around it to dinner, they felt more cheerful than they had done since the moment when they had laid it low.
As they ate, it was dark enough around them to have called the meal a supper; and it was long enough since they had eaten their breakfast—though they could not guess how long—but as they had eaten nothing since breakfast, they styled this first meal upon the bear-meat their dinner.
No dinner or supper was ever cooked like that—it was not cooked at all! for they had no fire wherewith to cook it.
They were not squeamish. A very long interval had transpired since they had eaten their slight breakfast. Karl and Caspar had refrained from the uncooked viand until their appetite could resist no longer; and then the raw flesh of the bear became palatable enough. It was supper time with Ossaroo. His stomach had more easily got over its scruples, and he had bolted his dinner long, long ago; so that when the others sat down to their first meal, Ossaroo was able to join them at his second.
Both Karl and Caspar ate heartily enough,—quite as heartily as if a chandelier with its wax-lights had been sparkling over their heads. Perhaps the absence of light was a circumstance in their favour. The huge paws—those “titbits” of the bear’s flesh—constituted their dinner; and hunters will tell you that, boiled, roasted, orraw, a bear’s paw is not bad eating.
When they had finished their meal, all three groped their way to where they heard the trickling of water.
They found a place where it oozed in a rapid and continuous dripping through the rocks; and, applying their mouths to this subterranean fountain, they were enabled in a few moments to slake their thirst.
They then returned to where they had dined; and, being now much wearied with their long-continued exertions, they stretched themselves upon the rocks with the intention of having some sleep. Though their bed was a hard one, it was not cold; for in the interior of great caverns it is never cold. There the temperature is more equable than that of the atmosphere without—being cooler in summer and warmer in winter, so that variety is scarcely known—at all events, the extremes of heat and cold are never felt. This is the ease with the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, and other large caverns; and on this account it has been thought that persons suffering from pulmonary complaints might derive benefit by dwelling in caves. There are many such patients who make their home in the Mammoth; and where a commodious hotel enables them to live in comfort, and even luxury! It is possible enough that the mild and equable temperature that exists under ground may enable the victim of consumption to prolong life for a considerable time: but it is doubtful whether any radical cure can be effected in this way; and the unfortunate sufferer, once he emerges from his subterranean dwelling, will be in as much danger from the insidious disease as before.
Little did Karl, Caspar, and Ossaroo, care for the mild atmosphere that surrounded them in the cavern. They would gladly have exchanged it for the hottest country in the torrid zone, or the coldest spot in all the Arctic regions. Biting mosquitos in the former, or biting frost in the latter, would have been more welcome than that mild and gentle climate that surrounded them—that gloomy atmosphere, where sun had never shone, and where snow had never fallen.
Notwithstanding their anxiety of mind, their weariness at length overcame them, and all three fell fast asleep.
Chapter Fifty Nine.Exploration of the Cave.They slept a good long while, though, whether if was by night or by day, they had no means of judging. They could only guess at it, by remembering how much time had transpired since they first entered the cave; but to show how little trust can be placed in any conjectures of this sort, they differed from one another in their estimates full twelve hours!Karl thought they had been wandering about nearly two days and a night; while the others believed the time not so long by twelve hours at least.Karl adduced a reason for his belief—the ravenous appetite which they had acquired, and which must have taken a long time to grow upon them; moreover, they had slept so long that he thought it must be in the night-time—the natural time of rest, which the nerves would understand without any clock to guide them. Karl admitted that his second reason was somewhat lame, since, having missed one night of sleep, their nerves on the day following would not be very nice about what hour they should feel inclined towards slumber.It is probable, however, that Karl was right in his conjecture. They had been long hours wandering to and fro, and had rested many times. The fuelling of horrid anxiety under which they had been suffering always impelled them to press on; and no wonder they had lost all definite recollection of the distance they had gone, or the time thus fruitlessly spent. It had taken them a good while to get the ladder in place; and the first day had been far spent before they were ready to penetrate the cave. It was, therefore, quite probable that their first sleep had been during the second night, after entering their gloomy chamber.Whether or not they had slept long and soundly enough—though not without troubled dreams—in which they had encountered bears, fierce shaggy yak-bulls, deep dangerous pits into which they were about to fall, and high cliffs they were trying in vain to climb—it was quite natural they should dream of such things.It was the awaking that was most unnatural. Instead of a bright sunshine to greet their eyes, or the soft blue light of morning, they saw nought—all around was gloom. Instead of the music of birds, or even the cheering sounds of active life, they heard nought. All around was the silence of the tomb!A tomb it might yet be to them—for a short while, perhaps, a living tomb; but, sooner or later, a tomb for their dead bodies—a sepulchre for their bones!Such were their reflections on awaking. Their dreams while asleep were even less horrid than the reality to which they awoke!If the sense of sleep regards not the absence of light, still less is the appetite of hunger affected by it. Once more the bear’s paws were drawn upon for a meal, and afforded it without boil or broil, bread or salt.As soon as they had eaten to their satisfaction, they rose to their feet, and set about the work which Karl had already traced out in his thoughts. Of course, before going about it he had fully communicated his plans to his companions.They were to make excursions in every direction from the spot where the bear had been killed. There were many galleries leading from the place—they had noticed that while their torches were yet burning. All these they designed to explore, one after another. The explorations were at first to be for short distances, until they had made themselves familiar with the passage extending in some one particular direction. This they would accomplish byfeelingthe rocks on either side, until they became thoroughly acquainted with the protuberances, or other marks that could be used as guides. If none existed, they would make them, by piling up stones at such places, or chipping a piece from the stalactites with the hatchet. Their design, in effect, was to “blaze” the passages, so that they would know them again, just as a woodman marks his way through the pathless forest.It was altogether an ingenious idea, and one that with time and patience promised success. Indeed, it seemed the only plan that held out a hope beyond mere chance—for amidst so many devious ways, to have proceeded without some plan would have been to trust to chance, and that they had tried already.They well knew that to carry out their design would require both time and patience; but by this, all three were well drilled in the lessons of patience. The bridge-building had been a school for them. It might not take much time, but it might; and for either result had they made their minds ready.In all probability, however, they might be long before they should set their eyes upon a ray of the sun’s light—before they should see that bright disk of the cavern’s mouth, that they had scarce looked at while leaving it behind them.It was their intention then, first, to take one particular direction, and thoroughly explore that before penetrating into any other. When the first should be traversed, either to its termination, or to such a length as might influence them in believing they were in the wrong way, they would then leave it, and set to exploring some other. Sooner or later, they believed that this would bring them into the passage that would conduct them out of their gigantic prison.Before setting about the execution of their plan, they once more made trial of Fritz, as upon the day before; but the dog would not part from the spot; and though, encouraged by the voice of Caspar, he would beat about for a certain space—it always ended by his returning to the carcass of the bear.As soon as they became convinced that Fritz would not guide them, they released him from the string; and then, in real earnest, set about carrying out the design of Karl.Their mode of proceeding was quite ingenious. They groped about until they found a large passage that led from the chamber or opening in which they were. This gallery they resolved to explore first.Lest by any mistake they might not find their way back, one always remained at a certain point; while the other two went ahead—stopping at intervals to blaze their way. Of course should the two who acted as pioneers make a wrong turn, so as not to know the route back, the voice of the third would at once guide them.In this manner they proceeded without much difficulty, though with great slowness. You will fancy they might have gone fast enough, their retreat being thus secured for them. But there were many obstacles to prevent a rapid advance. Each lateral passage they came to—and there were numbers of these—had to be marked for future examination, and the mark had to be made distinct and recognisable—this operation sometimes requiring a considerable time to effect. They had also to make their blazes at short intervals, so that these might be the more easily found upon their return. Another impediment was found in the clambering over sharp boulders, and getting across clefts that everywhere intercepted their path.Ay, slowly and with great caution were they compelled to make their advance, and whennight came—that is, when they had grown wearied and hungry, and wanted food and rest—they calculated they had not proceeded above half-a-mile from their place of departure. Of course no light had cheered them throughout those long working hours; but for all that they returned to the resting-place with their hearts still buoyed up with hope. To-morrow,—or the morrow after, or still another morrow, what mattered it?—they felt high confidence that on some morrow they would look once more upon the sun.
They slept a good long while, though, whether if was by night or by day, they had no means of judging. They could only guess at it, by remembering how much time had transpired since they first entered the cave; but to show how little trust can be placed in any conjectures of this sort, they differed from one another in their estimates full twelve hours!
Karl thought they had been wandering about nearly two days and a night; while the others believed the time not so long by twelve hours at least.
Karl adduced a reason for his belief—the ravenous appetite which they had acquired, and which must have taken a long time to grow upon them; moreover, they had slept so long that he thought it must be in the night-time—the natural time of rest, which the nerves would understand without any clock to guide them. Karl admitted that his second reason was somewhat lame, since, having missed one night of sleep, their nerves on the day following would not be very nice about what hour they should feel inclined towards slumber.
It is probable, however, that Karl was right in his conjecture. They had been long hours wandering to and fro, and had rested many times. The fuelling of horrid anxiety under which they had been suffering always impelled them to press on; and no wonder they had lost all definite recollection of the distance they had gone, or the time thus fruitlessly spent. It had taken them a good while to get the ladder in place; and the first day had been far spent before they were ready to penetrate the cave. It was, therefore, quite probable that their first sleep had been during the second night, after entering their gloomy chamber.
Whether or not they had slept long and soundly enough—though not without troubled dreams—in which they had encountered bears, fierce shaggy yak-bulls, deep dangerous pits into which they were about to fall, and high cliffs they were trying in vain to climb—it was quite natural they should dream of such things.
It was the awaking that was most unnatural. Instead of a bright sunshine to greet their eyes, or the soft blue light of morning, they saw nought—all around was gloom. Instead of the music of birds, or even the cheering sounds of active life, they heard nought. All around was the silence of the tomb!
A tomb it might yet be to them—for a short while, perhaps, a living tomb; but, sooner or later, a tomb for their dead bodies—a sepulchre for their bones!
Such were their reflections on awaking. Their dreams while asleep were even less horrid than the reality to which they awoke!
If the sense of sleep regards not the absence of light, still less is the appetite of hunger affected by it. Once more the bear’s paws were drawn upon for a meal, and afforded it without boil or broil, bread or salt.
As soon as they had eaten to their satisfaction, they rose to their feet, and set about the work which Karl had already traced out in his thoughts. Of course, before going about it he had fully communicated his plans to his companions.
They were to make excursions in every direction from the spot where the bear had been killed. There were many galleries leading from the place—they had noticed that while their torches were yet burning. All these they designed to explore, one after another. The explorations were at first to be for short distances, until they had made themselves familiar with the passage extending in some one particular direction. This they would accomplish byfeelingthe rocks on either side, until they became thoroughly acquainted with the protuberances, or other marks that could be used as guides. If none existed, they would make them, by piling up stones at such places, or chipping a piece from the stalactites with the hatchet. Their design, in effect, was to “blaze” the passages, so that they would know them again, just as a woodman marks his way through the pathless forest.
It was altogether an ingenious idea, and one that with time and patience promised success. Indeed, it seemed the only plan that held out a hope beyond mere chance—for amidst so many devious ways, to have proceeded without some plan would have been to trust to chance, and that they had tried already.
They well knew that to carry out their design would require both time and patience; but by this, all three were well drilled in the lessons of patience. The bridge-building had been a school for them. It might not take much time, but it might; and for either result had they made their minds ready.
In all probability, however, they might be long before they should set their eyes upon a ray of the sun’s light—before they should see that bright disk of the cavern’s mouth, that they had scarce looked at while leaving it behind them.
It was their intention then, first, to take one particular direction, and thoroughly explore that before penetrating into any other. When the first should be traversed, either to its termination, or to such a length as might influence them in believing they were in the wrong way, they would then leave it, and set to exploring some other. Sooner or later, they believed that this would bring them into the passage that would conduct them out of their gigantic prison.
Before setting about the execution of their plan, they once more made trial of Fritz, as upon the day before; but the dog would not part from the spot; and though, encouraged by the voice of Caspar, he would beat about for a certain space—it always ended by his returning to the carcass of the bear.
As soon as they became convinced that Fritz would not guide them, they released him from the string; and then, in real earnest, set about carrying out the design of Karl.
Their mode of proceeding was quite ingenious. They groped about until they found a large passage that led from the chamber or opening in which they were. This gallery they resolved to explore first.
Lest by any mistake they might not find their way back, one always remained at a certain point; while the other two went ahead—stopping at intervals to blaze their way. Of course should the two who acted as pioneers make a wrong turn, so as not to know the route back, the voice of the third would at once guide them.
In this manner they proceeded without much difficulty, though with great slowness. You will fancy they might have gone fast enough, their retreat being thus secured for them. But there were many obstacles to prevent a rapid advance. Each lateral passage they came to—and there were numbers of these—had to be marked for future examination, and the mark had to be made distinct and recognisable—this operation sometimes requiring a considerable time to effect. They had also to make their blazes at short intervals, so that these might be the more easily found upon their return. Another impediment was found in the clambering over sharp boulders, and getting across clefts that everywhere intercepted their path.
Ay, slowly and with great caution were they compelled to make their advance, and whennight came—that is, when they had grown wearied and hungry, and wanted food and rest—they calculated they had not proceeded above half-a-mile from their place of departure. Of course no light had cheered them throughout those long working hours; but for all that they returned to the resting-place with their hearts still buoyed up with hope. To-morrow,—or the morrow after, or still another morrow, what mattered it?—they felt high confidence that on some morrow they would look once more upon the sun.
Chapter Sixty.Preserving the Bear’s-Meat.There was one thing, however, about which they were apprehensive, and that was about their larder—how long would it last? The bear was large and fat, they could tell by the “feel” of him; and if they drew upon the carcass for moderate rations, it would hold out for many days; but then how was the meat to be preserved? Lying as it was—still unskinned—it must soon become unfit for food, though not so soon as in the open air; for meat will keep much longer in a cave,—that is, if it be a very deep one, than it will when exposed to the full light of the sun.This is easily explained. The principle of decomposition exists in the atmosphere itself, as is well-known to every one who deals in the hermetically-sealed airtight canisters of preserved meats; and if you can but remove the atmosphere entirely from a piece of fish, flesh, or vegetable, it is supposed that it will keep for ever!In the interior of a cavern, of course there is still an atmosphere, but it is rarer and of a less changeable sort, and, most probably, less active in its powers to cause decay. Hence it is that within the cave decomposition is slower than without; and, indeed, there are some caverns where, instead of being decomposed, the bodies of men and animals have been found still retaining their proper forms, only shrivelled into smaller size, and dried up like mummies.Though there was water here and there in the cavern, in all other places it was exceedingly dry. They could tell that the air was so, because the rocks felt dry, and in some places there was dust that was perfectly ready to puff up at the touch. They had noticed this while in pursuit of the bear. Both bear and dog had more than once been found enveloped in a cloud of dust as the hunters came near them with the torches. Indeed, they could tell that the atmosphere of the cavern was dry by simply breathing it in,—it felt dry to the throat.Under the keen apprehension which they had lest the meat should spoil before they could find the entrance of the cave, their wits were set to work to find some means of preserving it. Salt they had none, and therefore pickling was out of the question. Had they been able to procure the material to make a fire, they could have managed without salt by smoking the meat; but fire-wood was just then as difficult to be got at as salt. Even without either, had they only been in the open air, with the warm sun shining down upon them, they could have cured that bear-meat so that it would have kept good for months.Alas! the sun’s rays were as inaccessible as either the salt or the fuel.Preserving the meat by any one of the three different modes of salting, smoking, or jerking, was alike out of their power.Having already noticed the extreme dryness of the atmosphere, it occurred to them that if the meat were cut into very thin slices or strips, and then hung up, or spread out upon the rocks, it might not spoil at once—at all events, it might keep for a longer period than if suffered to lie as it was in one great mass. This was Ossaroo’s suggestion, and a good one it was. At all events, nothing better could be thought of, and after some consideration, they determined to act upon it.Where were they to procure lights? How was the bear to be skinned without light? How was the flesh to be cut up and spread out?These were questions that did not present the slightest obstacle—our adventurers scarce gave thought to them. They had by this time almost learnt to work in the darkness; and as for the skinning of the bear, Ossaroo could have performed that operation if it had even been darker,—supposing this to be possible. There was no difficulty about lights; and the shikarree, having been assisted by the others to place the carcass in a proper attitude, set to work with the keen blade of his knife, and, almost as readily as if a dozen candles had been held by him, he stripped off the shaggy hide, and laid it back upon the rocks.The cutting the flesh into slices and strips would be easily effected, though it would require more time, and should be done with great nicety. If not sliced very thin, the meat would be liable to spoil the sooner.But the Hindoo hunter was a very adept at this sort of thing, and his skill enabled him to complete the business in such a manner that had his “griskins” been submitted to the light, no one could have told they had been “carved” in the darkness.The strips, as they were cut by Ossaroo, were passed into the hands of the others, who having already spread out the hide with the hairy side undermost, laid the pieces upon it.As soon as Ossaroo had stripped the bones pretty clean, it was then time to dispose of the flesh. A question now arose as to whether it would be better to spread the pieces out upon the rock or hang them up upon lines.Decidedly better to hang them up, thought Ossaroo; and the others agreed with him. They would dry sooner in that way, it was thought; besides, as Caspar suggested, they would be out of the way of Fritz, who, if not looked after, might steal a march upon them, and devour half the meat at a single meal. By all means they should be hung out of his reach.But how was this to be accomplished? Where were the ropes and lines to be obtained? They had neither poles to serve as uprights, nor ropes to be stretched between them. True, there was a long piece of cord in the possession of Ossaroo, which he had manufactured from the Indian hemp, while making his fish-net; but this would not be enough. It would take many yards of cord to carry such a quantity of meat. What was to be done?“Cut the hide into strips!” cried Caspar, in answer to the question.The very thing; and no sooner suggested than carried into effect.The sliced meat was removed—the raw hide was stretched out, and cut into thongs of about an inch in thickness, and these being knotted together, a rope was soon made that reached from side to side of the great chamber. The ends of this were fastened to the rocks; one was looped around a jutting point, and the opposite was held by being placed upon a little shelf with a heavy stone on top of it; and thus a line, something after the fashion of a clothes-line, was carried across the chamber.When they had tried its strength, and were convinced that it would serve the purpose intended, they carried the meat slice by slice, and laid it carefully across, until the string was full.Another line had to be made before all was hung up; and this was made and fastened to the rock, in a similar manner as the first. The remainder of the slices were suspended upon it, and all hands now desisted from their labour. Their day’s work was done; for whether it was night or day, they had been busy for a long time, and on the completion of the job were fain to betake themselves once more to rest.They ate their meal, and lay down intending to sleep only for a few hours, and then to rouse themselves and with renewed energies continue their search after the light of the sun.
There was one thing, however, about which they were apprehensive, and that was about their larder—how long would it last? The bear was large and fat, they could tell by the “feel” of him; and if they drew upon the carcass for moderate rations, it would hold out for many days; but then how was the meat to be preserved? Lying as it was—still unskinned—it must soon become unfit for food, though not so soon as in the open air; for meat will keep much longer in a cave,—that is, if it be a very deep one, than it will when exposed to the full light of the sun.
This is easily explained. The principle of decomposition exists in the atmosphere itself, as is well-known to every one who deals in the hermetically-sealed airtight canisters of preserved meats; and if you can but remove the atmosphere entirely from a piece of fish, flesh, or vegetable, it is supposed that it will keep for ever!
In the interior of a cavern, of course there is still an atmosphere, but it is rarer and of a less changeable sort, and, most probably, less active in its powers to cause decay. Hence it is that within the cave decomposition is slower than without; and, indeed, there are some caverns where, instead of being decomposed, the bodies of men and animals have been found still retaining their proper forms, only shrivelled into smaller size, and dried up like mummies.
Though there was water here and there in the cavern, in all other places it was exceedingly dry. They could tell that the air was so, because the rocks felt dry, and in some places there was dust that was perfectly ready to puff up at the touch. They had noticed this while in pursuit of the bear. Both bear and dog had more than once been found enveloped in a cloud of dust as the hunters came near them with the torches. Indeed, they could tell that the atmosphere of the cavern was dry by simply breathing it in,—it felt dry to the throat.
Under the keen apprehension which they had lest the meat should spoil before they could find the entrance of the cave, their wits were set to work to find some means of preserving it. Salt they had none, and therefore pickling was out of the question. Had they been able to procure the material to make a fire, they could have managed without salt by smoking the meat; but fire-wood was just then as difficult to be got at as salt. Even without either, had they only been in the open air, with the warm sun shining down upon them, they could have cured that bear-meat so that it would have kept good for months.
Alas! the sun’s rays were as inaccessible as either the salt or the fuel.
Preserving the meat by any one of the three different modes of salting, smoking, or jerking, was alike out of their power.
Having already noticed the extreme dryness of the atmosphere, it occurred to them that if the meat were cut into very thin slices or strips, and then hung up, or spread out upon the rocks, it might not spoil at once—at all events, it might keep for a longer period than if suffered to lie as it was in one great mass. This was Ossaroo’s suggestion, and a good one it was. At all events, nothing better could be thought of, and after some consideration, they determined to act upon it.
Where were they to procure lights? How was the bear to be skinned without light? How was the flesh to be cut up and spread out?
These were questions that did not present the slightest obstacle—our adventurers scarce gave thought to them. They had by this time almost learnt to work in the darkness; and as for the skinning of the bear, Ossaroo could have performed that operation if it had even been darker,—supposing this to be possible. There was no difficulty about lights; and the shikarree, having been assisted by the others to place the carcass in a proper attitude, set to work with the keen blade of his knife, and, almost as readily as if a dozen candles had been held by him, he stripped off the shaggy hide, and laid it back upon the rocks.
The cutting the flesh into slices and strips would be easily effected, though it would require more time, and should be done with great nicety. If not sliced very thin, the meat would be liable to spoil the sooner.
But the Hindoo hunter was a very adept at this sort of thing, and his skill enabled him to complete the business in such a manner that had his “griskins” been submitted to the light, no one could have told they had been “carved” in the darkness.
The strips, as they were cut by Ossaroo, were passed into the hands of the others, who having already spread out the hide with the hairy side undermost, laid the pieces upon it.
As soon as Ossaroo had stripped the bones pretty clean, it was then time to dispose of the flesh. A question now arose as to whether it would be better to spread the pieces out upon the rock or hang them up upon lines.
Decidedly better to hang them up, thought Ossaroo; and the others agreed with him. They would dry sooner in that way, it was thought; besides, as Caspar suggested, they would be out of the way of Fritz, who, if not looked after, might steal a march upon them, and devour half the meat at a single meal. By all means they should be hung out of his reach.
But how was this to be accomplished? Where were the ropes and lines to be obtained? They had neither poles to serve as uprights, nor ropes to be stretched between them. True, there was a long piece of cord in the possession of Ossaroo, which he had manufactured from the Indian hemp, while making his fish-net; but this would not be enough. It would take many yards of cord to carry such a quantity of meat. What was to be done?
“Cut the hide into strips!” cried Caspar, in answer to the question.
The very thing; and no sooner suggested than carried into effect.
The sliced meat was removed—the raw hide was stretched out, and cut into thongs of about an inch in thickness, and these being knotted together, a rope was soon made that reached from side to side of the great chamber. The ends of this were fastened to the rocks; one was looped around a jutting point, and the opposite was held by being placed upon a little shelf with a heavy stone on top of it; and thus a line, something after the fashion of a clothes-line, was carried across the chamber.
When they had tried its strength, and were convinced that it would serve the purpose intended, they carried the meat slice by slice, and laid it carefully across, until the string was full.
Another line had to be made before all was hung up; and this was made and fastened to the rock, in a similar manner as the first. The remainder of the slices were suspended upon it, and all hands now desisted from their labour. Their day’s work was done; for whether it was night or day, they had been busy for a long time, and on the completion of the job were fain to betake themselves once more to rest.
They ate their meal, and lay down intending to sleep only for a few hours, and then to rouse themselves and with renewed energies continue their search after the light of the sun.
Chapter Sixty One.Dreams.Karl in his sleep had a dream, “Let there be light, and there was light!”This highly poetic passage of Scripture had been running in his mind during the past hours. He was thinking of chaos before the creation; and their own situation might well suggest the chaotic age. He was thinking—and reverentially—of the wonderful power of the Creator, who out of such darkness could cause light to shine forth by the simple expression of his will, “Let there be light, and there was light!”Karl dreamt that a form had appeared to them,—the form of a beautiful man,—and that from his body a bright light, similar to that of the sun, radiated on all sides. Around his head and face the rays were distributed in the form of a glory, such as Karl had seen upon many old pictures of the Saviour. Looking more attentively at the face, Karl also recognised its resemblance to the same pictures;—the gentle and benign expression, the noble forehead, and fair curling hair,—all were the same. Karl, who was of a religious turn, believed it was the Saviour he saw in his dream. The cave was no longer in darkness; it was lit up by the coruscations of light that emanated from the beautiful vision, and Karl could see all around him.After regarding him for a while, the bright form turned and moved off, beckoning Karl and the others to follow.They obeyed; and, after traversing numerous passages and chambers,—some of which they recognised as having passed through while in chase of the bear,—they were guided to the mouth of the cavern, where the strange apparition, meeting the light of the sun, melted into the air and disappeared from their sight!The delight which Karl felt, at thisdénouementof his dream, caused him to awake with a start, and with a joyful ejaculation upon his lips. It was suddenly suppressed, and followed by an expression of pain and disappointment. The happy passage had been only a dream,—a false delusion. The reality was as dark and gloomy as ever.The interjections of Karl awoke his companions; and Karl perceived that Caspar was greatly excited. He could not see him, but he knew by his talk, that such was the case.“I have been dreaming,” said Caspar, “a strange dream.”“Dreaming! of what?”“Oh! of lights, brother,—of lights,” replied Caspar.Karl was deeply attentive,—almost superstitious. He fancied that Caspar had seen the same vision with himself,—it must have been something more than a dream!“What lights, Caspar?”“Oh! jolly lights,—lights enough to show us out. Hang me! if I think I dreamt it after all. By thunder! good brother, I believe I was half awake when the idea came into my mind. Capital idea, isn’t it?”“What idea?” inquired Karl in surprise, and rather apprehensive that Caspar’s dream had deprived him of his senses. “What idea, Caspar?”“Why, the idea of thecandles, to be sure.”“The candles! What candles?—Surely,” thought Karl, as he asked the question,—“surely my poor brother’s intellect is getting deranged,—this horrid darkness is turning his brain.”“Oh! I have not told you my dream,—if it was a dream. I am confused. I am so delighted with the idea. We shall group no more in this hideous darkness,—we shall have light,—plenty of light, I promise you. Odd we did not think of the thing before!”“But what is it, brother? What was your dream about?—Tell us that.”“Well, now that I am awake, I don’t think it was a dream,—at least, not a regular one. I was thinking of the thing before I fell asleep, and I kept on thinking about it when I got to be half asleep; and then I saw my way clearer. You know, brother, I have before told you that when I have any thing upon my mind that puzzles me, I often hit upon the solution of it when I am about half dreaming; and so it has been in this case, I am sure I have got the right way at last.”“Well, Caspar,—the right way to do what? The right way to get out of the cave?”“I hope so, brother.”“But what do you propose?”“I propose that we turn tallow-chandlers.”“Tallow-chandlers! Poor boy!” soliloquised Karl; “I thought as much. O merciful Heaven, my dear brother! his reason is gone!”Such were Karl’s painful surmises, though he kept them to himself.“Yes, tallow-chandlers,” continued Caspar, in the same half-earnest, half-jocular way, “and make us a full set of candles.”“And of what would you make your candles, dear Caspar?” inquired Karl, in a sympathising tone, and with the design of humouring his brother, rather than excite him by contradiction.“Of what,” echoed Caspar, “what but the fat of this great bear?”“Ha!” ejaculated Karl, suddenly changing his tone, as he perceived that Caspar’s madness had something of method in it, “the fat of the bear, you say?”“Certainly, Karl. Isn’t his stomach as full of tallow as it can stick? and what’s to hinder us to make candles out of it that will carry us all over the cave,—and out of it, I fancy, unless it be the greatest maze that Nature has ever made out of rock-work?”Karl was no longer under the belief that his brother had gone mad. On the contrary, he saw that the latter had conceived a very fine idea; and though it did not yet appear how the thing was to be carried out, Karl fancied that there was something in it. His sweet dream recurred to him, and this he now regarded as ominous of the success of some plan of escape,—perhaps by the very means which Caspar had suggested,—by making candles out of “bear’s grease!”These were pleasant thoughts, but to Karl the pleasantest thought of all was the returning conviction that Casparwas still in his senses!
Karl in his sleep had a dream, “Let there be light, and there was light!”
This highly poetic passage of Scripture had been running in his mind during the past hours. He was thinking of chaos before the creation; and their own situation might well suggest the chaotic age. He was thinking—and reverentially—of the wonderful power of the Creator, who out of such darkness could cause light to shine forth by the simple expression of his will, “Let there be light, and there was light!”
Karl dreamt that a form had appeared to them,—the form of a beautiful man,—and that from his body a bright light, similar to that of the sun, radiated on all sides. Around his head and face the rays were distributed in the form of a glory, such as Karl had seen upon many old pictures of the Saviour. Looking more attentively at the face, Karl also recognised its resemblance to the same pictures;—the gentle and benign expression, the noble forehead, and fair curling hair,—all were the same. Karl, who was of a religious turn, believed it was the Saviour he saw in his dream. The cave was no longer in darkness; it was lit up by the coruscations of light that emanated from the beautiful vision, and Karl could see all around him.
After regarding him for a while, the bright form turned and moved off, beckoning Karl and the others to follow.
They obeyed; and, after traversing numerous passages and chambers,—some of which they recognised as having passed through while in chase of the bear,—they were guided to the mouth of the cavern, where the strange apparition, meeting the light of the sun, melted into the air and disappeared from their sight!
The delight which Karl felt, at thisdénouementof his dream, caused him to awake with a start, and with a joyful ejaculation upon his lips. It was suddenly suppressed, and followed by an expression of pain and disappointment. The happy passage had been only a dream,—a false delusion. The reality was as dark and gloomy as ever.
The interjections of Karl awoke his companions; and Karl perceived that Caspar was greatly excited. He could not see him, but he knew by his talk, that such was the case.
“I have been dreaming,” said Caspar, “a strange dream.”
“Dreaming! of what?”
“Oh! of lights, brother,—of lights,” replied Caspar.
Karl was deeply attentive,—almost superstitious. He fancied that Caspar had seen the same vision with himself,—it must have been something more than a dream!
“What lights, Caspar?”
“Oh! jolly lights,—lights enough to show us out. Hang me! if I think I dreamt it after all. By thunder! good brother, I believe I was half awake when the idea came into my mind. Capital idea, isn’t it?”
“What idea?” inquired Karl in surprise, and rather apprehensive that Caspar’s dream had deprived him of his senses. “What idea, Caspar?”
“Why, the idea of thecandles, to be sure.”
“The candles! What candles?—Surely,” thought Karl, as he asked the question,—“surely my poor brother’s intellect is getting deranged,—this horrid darkness is turning his brain.”
“Oh! I have not told you my dream,—if it was a dream. I am confused. I am so delighted with the idea. We shall group no more in this hideous darkness,—we shall have light,—plenty of light, I promise you. Odd we did not think of the thing before!”
“But what is it, brother? What was your dream about?—Tell us that.”
“Well, now that I am awake, I don’t think it was a dream,—at least, not a regular one. I was thinking of the thing before I fell asleep, and I kept on thinking about it when I got to be half asleep; and then I saw my way clearer. You know, brother, I have before told you that when I have any thing upon my mind that puzzles me, I often hit upon the solution of it when I am about half dreaming; and so it has been in this case, I am sure I have got the right way at last.”
“Well, Caspar,—the right way to do what? The right way to get out of the cave?”
“I hope so, brother.”
“But what do you propose?”
“I propose that we turn tallow-chandlers.”
“Tallow-chandlers! Poor boy!” soliloquised Karl; “I thought as much. O merciful Heaven, my dear brother! his reason is gone!”
Such were Karl’s painful surmises, though he kept them to himself.
“Yes, tallow-chandlers,” continued Caspar, in the same half-earnest, half-jocular way, “and make us a full set of candles.”
“And of what would you make your candles, dear Caspar?” inquired Karl, in a sympathising tone, and with the design of humouring his brother, rather than excite him by contradiction.
“Of what,” echoed Caspar, “what but the fat of this great bear?”
“Ha!” ejaculated Karl, suddenly changing his tone, as he perceived that Caspar’s madness had something of method in it, “the fat of the bear, you say?”
“Certainly, Karl. Isn’t his stomach as full of tallow as it can stick? and what’s to hinder us to make candles out of it that will carry us all over the cave,—and out of it, I fancy, unless it be the greatest maze that Nature has ever made out of rock-work?”
Karl was no longer under the belief that his brother had gone mad. On the contrary, he saw that the latter had conceived a very fine idea; and though it did not yet appear how the thing was to be carried out, Karl fancied that there was something in it. His sweet dream recurred to him, and this he now regarded as ominous of the success of some plan of escape,—perhaps by the very means which Caspar had suggested,—by making candles out of “bear’s grease!”
These were pleasant thoughts, but to Karl the pleasantest thought of all was the returning conviction that Casparwas still in his senses!
Chapter Sixty Two.Hopes.Ossaroo now joined in the general joy; and the three placed their heads together, to deliberate upon Caspar’s suggestion, and to discuss its feasibility in detail.But neither Karl nor Ossaroo had much need to spend their opinion on the details; for the original “promoter” of the plan had already conceived nearly the whole of them. It was, in fact, these that he had got hold of while half asleep; and which, on first awaking, he believed to have occurred to him in a dream. But there was no dream in the matter. The idea of making candles from the bear’s fat had been in his mind before he lay down—he had even thought of it while they were at work in curing the meat.“Yes,” said he, commencing to tell them in detail all that had passed through his mind upon the subject; “I had thought of the candles, while assisting Ossaroo to cut up the bear. I could tell, by the touch, that many pieces of the meat were almost pure fat; and I wondered to myself whether it would not burn and make a light. I knew, of course, that there was plenty more in the great stomach of the animal, and that of the real sort of which candles could be made. Would it burn? that was the question that puzzled me. I feared that it would not burn without first being rendered to grease or lard, and a wick put into it,—in fact, I knew it could not; and there arose the difficulty, since we had no fire wherewith to render the fat, and no vessel to render it in, even if we had been provided with fire in plenty.”“Ah! that is too true,” assented Karl, rather despairingly.“Well, so thought I, Karl, and I had well-nigh given up thinking about the matter—of course, I said nothing about it to either of you—as I knew you could not create fuel out of stones any more than I, and there was an end of it.”“Yes—an end of it,” unconsciously echoed Karl, in a desponding tone.“Not yet, brother! not yet!” rejoined Caspar, as he proceeded in his relation. “You see the thing had got into my thoughts, and, after a while, I found myself once more speculating upon it. How were we to make a fire that would melt that fat? That we could strike a light, I knew—we could do that with our tinder or gunpowder; but where were we to get sufficient fuel to make a fire with, and where was the vessel to be obtained, in which to render the lard? At first, I thought only of the fire. If we could once raise fuel for that, the vessel would not be of so much importance—we might contrive to heat a flat, thin stone, and melt some of the fat in that way. If we could not make fine candles, we might dip some wick in the grease, and thus have a kind of taper that would serve almost as well. I knew we had wick—I remembered the long hempen string which Ossaroo has got, and I knew that that would serve admirably for the purpose. All that would be easy enough—at least it appeared so—all except the stuff for the fire.”“Very ingenious of you, Caspar; these things had never entered my mind. Go on, brother!”“Well—to make a long story short, I have got the fuel.”“Bravo! good! good!” exclaimed Karl and Ossaroo in a breath, and in accents of joy. “You have got the fuel?”“Yes—I found it, at length; just as I was bobbing over asleep, the idea crossed my mind; though I fancied I was only dreaming, and must have afterwards fallen asleep. But I partially awoke shortly after, and took to thinking again; and then I found the vessel in which we can render our tallow—I think we can.”“Hurrah! better than all!”“And now, listen to my plan; for I have been thinking while I have been talking, and I have itmorecomplete than ever. Maybe you can both add something, but here is what I propose.”“Tell us, Caspar—all right, go on.”“We have with us two guns—Ossaroo has his spear, his hatchet, his bow, and a good quiver of arrows—fortunately his quiver, too, is of thick bamboo, and dry as a chip. First, then, I propose that, with Ossaroo’s axe, we break up the stocks of our guns, ramrods, and all—we can soon make others, once we get out—also the shaft of Ossaroo’s spear, his bow, arrows, and quiver—never mind, Ossaroo, you can replace them from the forest. This being done, we can make a fire large enough to melt as much fat as will make us no end of dips.”“You are right, brother,” interposed Karl; “but how about the vessel to melt it in?”“That puzzled me for a while,” replied the ingenious Caspar; “but I got over the difficulty, at length, by thinking of my powder-flask; you know it is a patent one, and the top screws off. Well—we can take off the top, empty the powder into one of our pockets, and make use of the bottom part for the lard. I am sure it will stand the fire, for it is stout copper without a flaw. The only difficulty is, that it is small; but we can fill it over and over again.”“And you propose to make the string which Ossaroo has got into wicks, and dip them in the hot grease?”“Nothing of the sort,” replied Caspar, in a triumphant tone; “we shall have no dips. I was contented with them at first, but not any longer. We shall have candles—real mould-candles!”“How? Mould-candles? How?”“Oh! that you shall see by-and-by. Ossaroo would only disclose part of his plans when he went to trap the tiger, and I mean to keep a little of mine to myself, in order to have arevancheupon him. Ha! ha! ha!”Caspar finished his speech with a laugh. It was the first time any of them had laughed since they entered that cave—no doubt, the first laugh that ever echoed through its gloomy aisles.
Ossaroo now joined in the general joy; and the three placed their heads together, to deliberate upon Caspar’s suggestion, and to discuss its feasibility in detail.
But neither Karl nor Ossaroo had much need to spend their opinion on the details; for the original “promoter” of the plan had already conceived nearly the whole of them. It was, in fact, these that he had got hold of while half asleep; and which, on first awaking, he believed to have occurred to him in a dream. But there was no dream in the matter. The idea of making candles from the bear’s fat had been in his mind before he lay down—he had even thought of it while they were at work in curing the meat.
“Yes,” said he, commencing to tell them in detail all that had passed through his mind upon the subject; “I had thought of the candles, while assisting Ossaroo to cut up the bear. I could tell, by the touch, that many pieces of the meat were almost pure fat; and I wondered to myself whether it would not burn and make a light. I knew, of course, that there was plenty more in the great stomach of the animal, and that of the real sort of which candles could be made. Would it burn? that was the question that puzzled me. I feared that it would not burn without first being rendered to grease or lard, and a wick put into it,—in fact, I knew it could not; and there arose the difficulty, since we had no fire wherewith to render the fat, and no vessel to render it in, even if we had been provided with fire in plenty.”
“Ah! that is too true,” assented Karl, rather despairingly.
“Well, so thought I, Karl, and I had well-nigh given up thinking about the matter—of course, I said nothing about it to either of you—as I knew you could not create fuel out of stones any more than I, and there was an end of it.”
“Yes—an end of it,” unconsciously echoed Karl, in a desponding tone.
“Not yet, brother! not yet!” rejoined Caspar, as he proceeded in his relation. “You see the thing had got into my thoughts, and, after a while, I found myself once more speculating upon it. How were we to make a fire that would melt that fat? That we could strike a light, I knew—we could do that with our tinder or gunpowder; but where were we to get sufficient fuel to make a fire with, and where was the vessel to be obtained, in which to render the lard? At first, I thought only of the fire. If we could once raise fuel for that, the vessel would not be of so much importance—we might contrive to heat a flat, thin stone, and melt some of the fat in that way. If we could not make fine candles, we might dip some wick in the grease, and thus have a kind of taper that would serve almost as well. I knew we had wick—I remembered the long hempen string which Ossaroo has got, and I knew that that would serve admirably for the purpose. All that would be easy enough—at least it appeared so—all except the stuff for the fire.”
“Very ingenious of you, Caspar; these things had never entered my mind. Go on, brother!”
“Well—to make a long story short, I have got the fuel.”
“Bravo! good! good!” exclaimed Karl and Ossaroo in a breath, and in accents of joy. “You have got the fuel?”
“Yes—I found it, at length; just as I was bobbing over asleep, the idea crossed my mind; though I fancied I was only dreaming, and must have afterwards fallen asleep. But I partially awoke shortly after, and took to thinking again; and then I found the vessel in which we can render our tallow—I think we can.”
“Hurrah! better than all!”
“And now, listen to my plan; for I have been thinking while I have been talking, and I have itmorecomplete than ever. Maybe you can both add something, but here is what I propose.”
“Tell us, Caspar—all right, go on.”
“We have with us two guns—Ossaroo has his spear, his hatchet, his bow, and a good quiver of arrows—fortunately his quiver, too, is of thick bamboo, and dry as a chip. First, then, I propose that, with Ossaroo’s axe, we break up the stocks of our guns, ramrods, and all—we can soon make others, once we get out—also the shaft of Ossaroo’s spear, his bow, arrows, and quiver—never mind, Ossaroo, you can replace them from the forest. This being done, we can make a fire large enough to melt as much fat as will make us no end of dips.”
“You are right, brother,” interposed Karl; “but how about the vessel to melt it in?”
“That puzzled me for a while,” replied the ingenious Caspar; “but I got over the difficulty, at length, by thinking of my powder-flask; you know it is a patent one, and the top screws off. Well—we can take off the top, empty the powder into one of our pockets, and make use of the bottom part for the lard. I am sure it will stand the fire, for it is stout copper without a flaw. The only difficulty is, that it is small; but we can fill it over and over again.”
“And you propose to make the string which Ossaroo has got into wicks, and dip them in the hot grease?”
“Nothing of the sort,” replied Caspar, in a triumphant tone; “we shall have no dips. I was contented with them at first, but not any longer. We shall have candles—real mould-candles!”
“How? Mould-candles? How?”
“Oh! that you shall see by-and-by. Ossaroo would only disclose part of his plans when he went to trap the tiger, and I mean to keep a little of mine to myself, in order to have arevancheupon him. Ha! ha! ha!”
Caspar finished his speech with a laugh. It was the first time any of them had laughed since they entered that cave—no doubt, the first laugh that ever echoed through its gloomy aisles.