Chapter Forty One.Ossaroo’s Revenge.So indignant was Ossaroo with these animals that he vowed he would not lie down till he had taken wholesale revenge, and Karl and Caspar were curious to know how he intended to take it. They knew the dogs would be like enough to come round the hut during the night. Indeed, they heard them yelping not far off at the moment; but for all that how were they to be killed, for that was the sort of revenge the shikarree meditated taking? It would never do to expend powder and shot on such worthless animals; besides firing at them in the darkness would be a very uncertain mode of killing even a single one of them.Did Ossaroo intend to sit up all night and shoot at them with his arrows? The chances were he should not hit one; and from the way Ossaroo talked he had made up his mind to a whole hetacomb! Certainly he could not do it with his bow and arrows. How then was he going to take the wholesale vengeance he had rowed?They knew of no sort of trap that could be arranged, whereby more than a single dog might be captured; and it would take some time with such weapons as they had to construct the rudest kind of trap. True, there was the “dead-fall” that might be rigged up in a few minutes from logs that lay near; but that could only fall once, crushing one victim, unless Ossaroo sat up to rearrange it. Besides, the cunning dogs might not go under it again, after one of their number had been immolated before their eyes.Karl and Caspar could not conceive what plan Ossaroo intended to pursue; but from experience they knew he had some one; and therefore they asked him no questions, but watched his proceedings in silence.The first thing that Ossaroo did was to collect from the antelope all the tendons or sinews that he could lay his fingers on. Some, also, he obtained from the barking-deer, which Caspar had killed in the morning; and others he took from the limbs of the yaks that had been brought home in their skins. In a short while he had a goodly bunch of these tough strings; which he first dried before the fire, and then twisted after his own fashion into slender cords. In all he made more than a score of them—Karl and Caspar of course acting under his directions, and lending him all necessary help during the operation. These cords, neatly twined and dried by the heat, now resembled strings of coarse catgut; and it only remained for Ossaroo to knot and loop them, and form them into snares.Of course Karl and Caspar now knew what Ossaroo purposed—to snare the dogs of course. Yet how the snares were to be set, or how a wild dog could be captured with a piece of catgut, was more than they could comprehend. Surely, thought they, the dogs will gnaw such a string to pieces in half a minute, and set themselves free again? So it would have appeared, and so they would doubtless have done had the snares been set for them in the ordinary manner. But Ossaroo had a plan of his own for setting snares, and it was by this plan he intended to succeed in capturing the dogs.The next thing Ossaroo did was to provide himself with an equal number of stoutish thongs, which his knife and the numerous raw hides that lay about soon enabled him to do. When these were all prepared, about twenty small skewer-like rods were obtained from the bushes and sharpened at one end. Then a like number of “griskins” were cut from the antelope venison—it being esteemed of least value; and thus provided, Ossaroo started forth to set his snares.Karl and Caspar of course accompanied him, the latter limping on one leg, and carrying a large pine-torch—for as the moon had gone down, and it was now quite dark, they required a light to do the work. Karl was loaded with the thongs, skewers, and griskins, while Ossaroo himself was in charge of the snares.Now it so happened that not far from the hut, and all around it, there grew numbers of low trees, with long branches that extended horizontally outward. They were a species of thepyrus, or mountain-ash, sometimes known as “witch hazel.” The branches, though long, were thin, tough, and elastic, and not much burdened with either branchlets or leaves. They were the very things for Ossaroo’s purpose, and he had observed this before it had become quite dark, and while he was meditating upon some plan to get square with the wild dogs. Upon these branches he was now to operate.Reaching up he caught one of them in his hand, drew it downwards, and then suddenly let it go again, in order to try the “spring” of it. It appeared to satisfy him; and, once more laying hold of it, he stripped off its leaves and twigs, and then tied the rawhide thong to its upper end. To the other end of the string was next adjusted the skewer-like rod, and this last was fastened in the ground in such a way as to hold the branch bent downward with considerable force, while a very slight jerk upon the pin itself would set the former free. The shikarree now arranged his piece of venison for a bait, fixing it so that it could not possibly be dragged away or even slightly tugged without setting free the rod-trigger, and consequently the bent branch. Last of all, was arranged the snare, and this was placed in such a position with regard to the bait, that any animal attempting to seize the latter must necessarily have the whole or part of its body encircled by the ready running noose.When all these matters were arranged to his satisfaction, Ossaroo proceeded to another tree, and went through a similar process of snare-setting; and then to another, and so on till the whole of his snares were disposed of, when the party returned to the hut.They sat for half-an-hour longer, listening in hopes that before retiring they might enjoy the sport of seeing a wild dog snared. Whether it was that the torch-light had frightened them off for a while, or from some other cause, neither yelp, nor growl, nor noise of any kind, gratified the ears of the listeners; so they gave it up, and, shutting the rude door of the hut, one and all of them went soundly to sleep.The fact is, the day’s work had been one of the hardest of their lives. All were as tired as hod-carriers; and they were glad to stretch themselves once more on the fragrant leaves of the rhododendrons.Had they not slept so soundly, they might have heard a considerable confusion of noises throughout the night. What with barking and growling, and yelping and howling, and snapping and snarling, and the creaking of branches and the rattling of twigs, there was a constant medley, that ought to have awakened the three sleepers long before daylight. It did awake them, however, at last; and as the light streamed through the apertures of the hut, all three sprang to their feet and rushed out into the open air. It was still only grey light; but as soon as they had rubbed their eyes clear of sleep, a sight was before them that caused Karl and Caspar to break out into loud laughter, while Ossaroo jumped about vociferating his delight in wild yells of triumph. Nearly every snare they had set had caught its victim—nearly every tree around the hut carried a dog swinging to its branches—some by the neck hanged quite dead—some round the body alive and struggling—while there were others suspended by a single leg, their snouts almost touching the earth, and their tongues hanging from their frothy jaws!It was the strangest of all scenes; and Ossaroo had, as he had vowed, a full measure of vengeance—which he now carried to its completion, by seizing his long spear, and putting an end to the struggles of the hideous brutes.
So indignant was Ossaroo with these animals that he vowed he would not lie down till he had taken wholesale revenge, and Karl and Caspar were curious to know how he intended to take it. They knew the dogs would be like enough to come round the hut during the night. Indeed, they heard them yelping not far off at the moment; but for all that how were they to be killed, for that was the sort of revenge the shikarree meditated taking? It would never do to expend powder and shot on such worthless animals; besides firing at them in the darkness would be a very uncertain mode of killing even a single one of them.
Did Ossaroo intend to sit up all night and shoot at them with his arrows? The chances were he should not hit one; and from the way Ossaroo talked he had made up his mind to a whole hetacomb! Certainly he could not do it with his bow and arrows. How then was he going to take the wholesale vengeance he had rowed?
They knew of no sort of trap that could be arranged, whereby more than a single dog might be captured; and it would take some time with such weapons as they had to construct the rudest kind of trap. True, there was the “dead-fall” that might be rigged up in a few minutes from logs that lay near; but that could only fall once, crushing one victim, unless Ossaroo sat up to rearrange it. Besides, the cunning dogs might not go under it again, after one of their number had been immolated before their eyes.
Karl and Caspar could not conceive what plan Ossaroo intended to pursue; but from experience they knew he had some one; and therefore they asked him no questions, but watched his proceedings in silence.
The first thing that Ossaroo did was to collect from the antelope all the tendons or sinews that he could lay his fingers on. Some, also, he obtained from the barking-deer, which Caspar had killed in the morning; and others he took from the limbs of the yaks that had been brought home in their skins. In a short while he had a goodly bunch of these tough strings; which he first dried before the fire, and then twisted after his own fashion into slender cords. In all he made more than a score of them—Karl and Caspar of course acting under his directions, and lending him all necessary help during the operation. These cords, neatly twined and dried by the heat, now resembled strings of coarse catgut; and it only remained for Ossaroo to knot and loop them, and form them into snares.
Of course Karl and Caspar now knew what Ossaroo purposed—to snare the dogs of course. Yet how the snares were to be set, or how a wild dog could be captured with a piece of catgut, was more than they could comprehend. Surely, thought they, the dogs will gnaw such a string to pieces in half a minute, and set themselves free again? So it would have appeared, and so they would doubtless have done had the snares been set for them in the ordinary manner. But Ossaroo had a plan of his own for setting snares, and it was by this plan he intended to succeed in capturing the dogs.
The next thing Ossaroo did was to provide himself with an equal number of stoutish thongs, which his knife and the numerous raw hides that lay about soon enabled him to do. When these were all prepared, about twenty small skewer-like rods were obtained from the bushes and sharpened at one end. Then a like number of “griskins” were cut from the antelope venison—it being esteemed of least value; and thus provided, Ossaroo started forth to set his snares.
Karl and Caspar of course accompanied him, the latter limping on one leg, and carrying a large pine-torch—for as the moon had gone down, and it was now quite dark, they required a light to do the work. Karl was loaded with the thongs, skewers, and griskins, while Ossaroo himself was in charge of the snares.
Now it so happened that not far from the hut, and all around it, there grew numbers of low trees, with long branches that extended horizontally outward. They were a species of thepyrus, or mountain-ash, sometimes known as “witch hazel.” The branches, though long, were thin, tough, and elastic, and not much burdened with either branchlets or leaves. They were the very things for Ossaroo’s purpose, and he had observed this before it had become quite dark, and while he was meditating upon some plan to get square with the wild dogs. Upon these branches he was now to operate.
Reaching up he caught one of them in his hand, drew it downwards, and then suddenly let it go again, in order to try the “spring” of it. It appeared to satisfy him; and, once more laying hold of it, he stripped off its leaves and twigs, and then tied the rawhide thong to its upper end. To the other end of the string was next adjusted the skewer-like rod, and this last was fastened in the ground in such a way as to hold the branch bent downward with considerable force, while a very slight jerk upon the pin itself would set the former free. The shikarree now arranged his piece of venison for a bait, fixing it so that it could not possibly be dragged away or even slightly tugged without setting free the rod-trigger, and consequently the bent branch. Last of all, was arranged the snare, and this was placed in such a position with regard to the bait, that any animal attempting to seize the latter must necessarily have the whole or part of its body encircled by the ready running noose.
When all these matters were arranged to his satisfaction, Ossaroo proceeded to another tree, and went through a similar process of snare-setting; and then to another, and so on till the whole of his snares were disposed of, when the party returned to the hut.
They sat for half-an-hour longer, listening in hopes that before retiring they might enjoy the sport of seeing a wild dog snared. Whether it was that the torch-light had frightened them off for a while, or from some other cause, neither yelp, nor growl, nor noise of any kind, gratified the ears of the listeners; so they gave it up, and, shutting the rude door of the hut, one and all of them went soundly to sleep.
The fact is, the day’s work had been one of the hardest of their lives. All were as tired as hod-carriers; and they were glad to stretch themselves once more on the fragrant leaves of the rhododendrons.
Had they not slept so soundly, they might have heard a considerable confusion of noises throughout the night. What with barking and growling, and yelping and howling, and snapping and snarling, and the creaking of branches and the rattling of twigs, there was a constant medley, that ought to have awakened the three sleepers long before daylight. It did awake them, however, at last; and as the light streamed through the apertures of the hut, all three sprang to their feet and rushed out into the open air. It was still only grey light; but as soon as they had rubbed their eyes clear of sleep, a sight was before them that caused Karl and Caspar to break out into loud laughter, while Ossaroo jumped about vociferating his delight in wild yells of triumph. Nearly every snare they had set had caught its victim—nearly every tree around the hut carried a dog swinging to its branches—some by the neck hanged quite dead—some round the body alive and struggling—while there were others suspended by a single leg, their snouts almost touching the earth, and their tongues hanging from their frothy jaws!
It was the strangest of all scenes; and Ossaroo had, as he had vowed, a full measure of vengeance—which he now carried to its completion, by seizing his long spear, and putting an end to the struggles of the hideous brutes.
Chapter Forty Two.The Crevasse Bridged.Young reader, I shall not weary you by relating every little circumstance which occurred during the time that the bridge was being constructed. Suffice it to say, that all hands were busy,—both night and day, I might almost say,—until it was finished. Although they were in no want of any thing, and might have lived their lives out in this place, yet the thought that they were imprisoned—cut off from all fellowship with mankind—weighed heavily upon their spirits, and not an hour was wasted in idle amusement. The whole of their time was given up to that which engrossed all their thoughts—the construction of the bridge—that link, which was wanting to unite them once more with the world, and free them from their lonely captivity.They were a whole month in getting their bridge ready; which, after all, consisted only of a single pole of about six inches in diameter, and better than a hundred feet in length. It was nothing more than two slender pine-trees spliced together by means of rawhide thongs. But then these trees had to be shaved down to a nearly uniform thickness, and this had to be done with the small hatchet and knives; and the wood had to be charred by fire until it was quite dry and light; and the splicing had to be made with the greatest neatness and strength, so that there would be no danger of its yielding under a weight; and, moreover, a great many ropes had to be twisted, and many animals had to be captured and killed, to obtain the materials for these ropes; and other apparatus had to be made—so that the getting that bridge ready was a good month’s work for all hands.At the end of a month it was ready; and now behold it in the gorge of the glacier, and lying along the snowy surface of the ice, one end of it within a few feet of the crevasse! Thither they have transported it, and are just preparing to put it in its place.The first thought that will strike you, will be how that piece of timber is to be placed across that yawning chasm. It is quite long enough to reach across—for they calculated that before making it—and there are several feet to lap over at each end; but how on earth is it to be extended across? If any one of the party was upon the opposite side, and had a rope attached to the end of the pole, then it would be easy enough to manage it. But as there could be nothing of this kind, how did they intend acting? It is evident they could not push it across before them; the end of such a long pole would naturally sink below the horizontal line before reaching the opposite side; and how was it to be raised up? In fact, as soon as they should push it a little more than half its length outward, its own weight would overbalance their united strength, and it would be likely to escape from their hands and drop to the bottom of the cleft—whence, of course, they could not recover it. This would be a sad result, after the trouble they had had in constructing that well-balanced piece of timber.Ah! they were not such simpletons as to have worked a whole month without first having settled all these matters. Karl was too good an engineer to have gone on thus far, without a proper design of how his bridge was to be thrown across. If you look at the objects lying around, you will perceive the evidence of that design. You will understand how the difficulty is to be got over.You will see there a ladder nearly fifty feet in length—several days were expended in the making of this; you will see a strong pulley, with block-wheels and shears—this cost no little time in the construction; and you will see several coils of stout rawhide rope. No wonder a month was expended in the preparation of the bridge!And now to throw it across the chasm! For that purpose they were upon the ground, and all their apparatus with them. Without farther delay the work commenced.The ladder was placed against the cliff, with its lower end resting upon the glacier, and as close to the edge of the crevasse as was reckoned safe.We have said that the ladder was fifty feet in length; and consequently it reached to a point on the face of the cliff nearly fifty feet above the surface of the glacier. At this height there chanced to be a slight flaw in the rock—a sort of seam in the granite—where a hole could easily be pierced with an iron instrument.To make this hole a foot or more in depth was the work of an hour. It was done by means of the hatchet, and the iron point of Ossaroo’s boar-spear.A strong wooden stake was next inserted into this hole, fitting it as nearly as possible; but, in order to make it perfectly tight and firm, hard wooden wedges were hammered in all around it.When driven home, the end of this stake protruded a foot or more from the wall of the cliff; and, by means of notches cut in the wood, and rawhide thongs, the pulley was securely rigged on to it.The pulley had been made with two wheels; each of them with axles strong enough to bear the weight of several hundreds. Both had been well tested before this time.Another stake was now inserted into the cliff, within a few feet of the surface of the glacier. This was simply to be used as a belaying-pin, to which the ends of the pulley-ropes could be fastened at a moment’s notice.The next operation was the reeving of the ropes over the wheels of the pulley. This was the work of but a few minutes, as the ropes had already been carefully twisted, and had been made of just the thickness to fit the grooves of the wheels.The ropes—or cables, as the boys called them—were now attached at one end to the great pole which was to form the bridge. One to its end, and the other to its middle, exactly around the place where it was joined.The greatest pains was taken in adjusting these knots, particularly the one in the middle; for the duty which this cable was called upon to perform was, indeed, of a most important character.It was to act as the main pier or support of the bridge—not only to prevent the long pole from “swagging” downward, but in fact to keep it from breaking altogether. But for Karl’s ingenuity in devising this support, a slender pole, such as that they had prepared, would never have sustained the weight of one of them; and had they made it of heavier scantling, they could not have thrown it across the chasm. The centre support, therefore, was the chief object of their solicitude; and this cable, as well as the pulley-wheel over which it passed, were made much stronger than the other. The second rope was intended to hold up the end of the pole, so that, on approaching the opposite side of the chasm, it could be kept high enough to be raised above the ice.The ropes being now completely rigged, each man took his place. Ossaroo, who was the strongest of the party, was to push the bridge forward; while Karl and Caspar attended to the pulley and the ropes. Rollers had already been laid under the poles; for, although but six inches in diameter, its great length rendered it no easy matter to slide it forward, even with the advantage of the slippery surface of frozen snow.The word was given by Karl, and the pole commenced moving. Soon its end passed over the brink of the chasm, close by the edge of the black rock. Slowly and gradually it moved forward, and not one of them uttered a word. They were all too much absorbed in attending to their various duties to speak a sentence.Slowly and gradually it moved onward, creeping along the cliff, like some huge monster, and protruding its muzzled snout far over the deep chasm.At length the nearest roller approached the brink, find it became necessary to stop the motion till these could be rearranged.This was easily done. A few turns of the cables around the belaying-pin, and all stood fast. The pulley-wheels worked admirably, and the cables glided smoothly over the grooved blocks.The rollers were soon readjusted—the cables again freed from the pin, and the bridge moved on.Slowly and gradually—slowly but smoothly and surely, it moved, until its farther end rested upon the opposite cheek of the crevasse, lapping the hard ice by several feet. Then the cables were held taut, and securely fastened to the belaying-pin. The nearer end of the pole was tied with other ropes—so that it could not possibly shift from its place—and the yawning abyss was now spanned by a bridge!Not till then did the builders rest to look upon their work; and, as they stood gazing upon the singular structure that was to restore them to liberty and home, they could not restrain themselves, but gave vent to their triumphant feelings in a loud huzzah!
Young reader, I shall not weary you by relating every little circumstance which occurred during the time that the bridge was being constructed. Suffice it to say, that all hands were busy,—both night and day, I might almost say,—until it was finished. Although they were in no want of any thing, and might have lived their lives out in this place, yet the thought that they were imprisoned—cut off from all fellowship with mankind—weighed heavily upon their spirits, and not an hour was wasted in idle amusement. The whole of their time was given up to that which engrossed all their thoughts—the construction of the bridge—that link, which was wanting to unite them once more with the world, and free them from their lonely captivity.
They were a whole month in getting their bridge ready; which, after all, consisted only of a single pole of about six inches in diameter, and better than a hundred feet in length. It was nothing more than two slender pine-trees spliced together by means of rawhide thongs. But then these trees had to be shaved down to a nearly uniform thickness, and this had to be done with the small hatchet and knives; and the wood had to be charred by fire until it was quite dry and light; and the splicing had to be made with the greatest neatness and strength, so that there would be no danger of its yielding under a weight; and, moreover, a great many ropes had to be twisted, and many animals had to be captured and killed, to obtain the materials for these ropes; and other apparatus had to be made—so that the getting that bridge ready was a good month’s work for all hands.
At the end of a month it was ready; and now behold it in the gorge of the glacier, and lying along the snowy surface of the ice, one end of it within a few feet of the crevasse! Thither they have transported it, and are just preparing to put it in its place.
The first thought that will strike you, will be how that piece of timber is to be placed across that yawning chasm. It is quite long enough to reach across—for they calculated that before making it—and there are several feet to lap over at each end; but how on earth is it to be extended across? If any one of the party was upon the opposite side, and had a rope attached to the end of the pole, then it would be easy enough to manage it. But as there could be nothing of this kind, how did they intend acting? It is evident they could not push it across before them; the end of such a long pole would naturally sink below the horizontal line before reaching the opposite side; and how was it to be raised up? In fact, as soon as they should push it a little more than half its length outward, its own weight would overbalance their united strength, and it would be likely to escape from their hands and drop to the bottom of the cleft—whence, of course, they could not recover it. This would be a sad result, after the trouble they had had in constructing that well-balanced piece of timber.
Ah! they were not such simpletons as to have worked a whole month without first having settled all these matters. Karl was too good an engineer to have gone on thus far, without a proper design of how his bridge was to be thrown across. If you look at the objects lying around, you will perceive the evidence of that design. You will understand how the difficulty is to be got over.
You will see there a ladder nearly fifty feet in length—several days were expended in the making of this; you will see a strong pulley, with block-wheels and shears—this cost no little time in the construction; and you will see several coils of stout rawhide rope. No wonder a month was expended in the preparation of the bridge!
And now to throw it across the chasm! For that purpose they were upon the ground, and all their apparatus with them. Without farther delay the work commenced.
The ladder was placed against the cliff, with its lower end resting upon the glacier, and as close to the edge of the crevasse as was reckoned safe.
We have said that the ladder was fifty feet in length; and consequently it reached to a point on the face of the cliff nearly fifty feet above the surface of the glacier. At this height there chanced to be a slight flaw in the rock—a sort of seam in the granite—where a hole could easily be pierced with an iron instrument.
To make this hole a foot or more in depth was the work of an hour. It was done by means of the hatchet, and the iron point of Ossaroo’s boar-spear.
A strong wooden stake was next inserted into this hole, fitting it as nearly as possible; but, in order to make it perfectly tight and firm, hard wooden wedges were hammered in all around it.
When driven home, the end of this stake protruded a foot or more from the wall of the cliff; and, by means of notches cut in the wood, and rawhide thongs, the pulley was securely rigged on to it.
The pulley had been made with two wheels; each of them with axles strong enough to bear the weight of several hundreds. Both had been well tested before this time.
Another stake was now inserted into the cliff, within a few feet of the surface of the glacier. This was simply to be used as a belaying-pin, to which the ends of the pulley-ropes could be fastened at a moment’s notice.
The next operation was the reeving of the ropes over the wheels of the pulley. This was the work of but a few minutes, as the ropes had already been carefully twisted, and had been made of just the thickness to fit the grooves of the wheels.
The ropes—or cables, as the boys called them—were now attached at one end to the great pole which was to form the bridge. One to its end, and the other to its middle, exactly around the place where it was joined.
The greatest pains was taken in adjusting these knots, particularly the one in the middle; for the duty which this cable was called upon to perform was, indeed, of a most important character.
It was to act as the main pier or support of the bridge—not only to prevent the long pole from “swagging” downward, but in fact to keep it from breaking altogether. But for Karl’s ingenuity in devising this support, a slender pole, such as that they had prepared, would never have sustained the weight of one of them; and had they made it of heavier scantling, they could not have thrown it across the chasm. The centre support, therefore, was the chief object of their solicitude; and this cable, as well as the pulley-wheel over which it passed, were made much stronger than the other. The second rope was intended to hold up the end of the pole, so that, on approaching the opposite side of the chasm, it could be kept high enough to be raised above the ice.
The ropes being now completely rigged, each man took his place. Ossaroo, who was the strongest of the party, was to push the bridge forward; while Karl and Caspar attended to the pulley and the ropes. Rollers had already been laid under the poles; for, although but six inches in diameter, its great length rendered it no easy matter to slide it forward, even with the advantage of the slippery surface of frozen snow.
The word was given by Karl, and the pole commenced moving. Soon its end passed over the brink of the chasm, close by the edge of the black rock. Slowly and gradually it moved forward, and not one of them uttered a word. They were all too much absorbed in attending to their various duties to speak a sentence.
Slowly and gradually it moved onward, creeping along the cliff, like some huge monster, and protruding its muzzled snout far over the deep chasm.
At length the nearest roller approached the brink, find it became necessary to stop the motion till these could be rearranged.
This was easily done. A few turns of the cables around the belaying-pin, and all stood fast. The pulley-wheels worked admirably, and the cables glided smoothly over the grooved blocks.
The rollers were soon readjusted—the cables again freed from the pin, and the bridge moved on.
Slowly and gradually—slowly but smoothly and surely, it moved, until its farther end rested upon the opposite cheek of the crevasse, lapping the hard ice by several feet. Then the cables were held taut, and securely fastened to the belaying-pin. The nearer end of the pole was tied with other ropes—so that it could not possibly shift from its place—and the yawning abyss was now spanned by a bridge!
Not till then did the builders rest to look upon their work; and, as they stood gazing upon the singular structure that was to restore them to liberty and home, they could not restrain themselves, but gave vent to their triumphant feelings in a loud huzzah!
Chapter Forty Three.The Passage of the Crevasse.I know you are smiling at this very poor substitute for a bridge, and wondering how they who built it were going to cross upon it. Climbing a Maypole would be nothing to such a feat. It may seem easy enough to cling to a pole six inches in diameter, and even to “swarm” along it for some yards, but when you come to talk of a hundred feet of such progression, and that over a yawning chasm, the very sight of which is enough to make the head giddy and the heart faint, then the thing becomes a feat indeed. Had there been no other mode of getting over, like enough our heroes would have endeavoured to cross in that way.Ossaroo, who had “swarmed” up the stem of many a bamboo and tall palm-tree, would have thought nothing of it; but for Karl and Caspar, who were not such climbers, it would have been rather perilous. They had, therefore, designed a safer plan.Each was provided with a sort of yoke, formed out of a tough sapling that had been sweated in the fire and then bent into a triangular shape. It was a rude isosceles triangle, tied tightly at the apex with rawhide thongs; and thereto was attached a piece of well-twistedrope, the object of which was to form a knot or loop over the pole, to act as a runner. The feet of the passenger were to rest on the base of the yoke, which would serve as a stirrup to support the body, while one arm would hug the pole, leaving the other free to push forward the runner by short gradations. In this way each was to work himself across. Their guns, and the few other things, were to be tightly strapped to their backs. They had only those that were worth bringing along. As for Fritz, he was not to be left behind, although the transporting him across had offered for some time a serious difficulty. Ossaroo, however, had removed the difficulty by proposing to tie the dog up in a skin and strap him on his (Ossaroo’s) own back, and thus carry him over. It would be nothing to Ossaroo.In less than half-an-hour after the bridge was in its place, the three were ready to cross. There they stood, each holding the odd-looking stirrup in his hand, with hisimpedimentastrapped securely on his back. The head of Fritz, just showing above the shoulder of the shikarree, while his body was shrouded in a piece of shaggy yak-skin, presented a very ludicrous spectacle, and his countenance wore quite a serio-comical expression. He seemed quite puzzled as to what was going to be done with him.Ossaroo proposed crossing first; and then Caspar, brave as a lion, said that he was thelightest, andoughtto gofirst. Karl would not listen to either of them, Karl alleged that, as he was the builder of the bridge, by all usage it was his place to make trial of it. Karl being the Sahib of the party, and, of course, the man of most authority, carried his point.Stepping cautiously to the point where the pole rested on the ice, he looped the rawhide rope over it, and then suffered the yoke to drop down. He then grasped the pole tightly in his arms, and placed his feet firmly in the stirrup. For a moment or two, he pressed heavily upon the latter, so as to test its strength, while he held on by the beam above; and then, disengaging his left arm, he pushed the runner forward upon the pole, to the distance of a foot or more. This, of course, carried the stirrup along with it, as well as his feet; and then, throwing forward the upper part of his body, he swung himself out above the abyss.It was a fearful sight, even to those who watched him, and would have been too perilous a feat for idle play; but the very nature of their circumstances had hardened them to undergo the danger.After a time, Karl was far out from the ice, and seemed to hang upon a thread between heaven and earth!Had the pole slipped at either end, it would have precipitated the adventurous Karl into the chasm; but they had taken every precaution against this. At the nearer end, they had rendered it secure by rolling immense rocks upon it; while, on the opposite side, it was held in its place by the cable, that had been drawn as tight as the pulley could make it.Notwithstanding the mainstay in the middle, it sank considerably under the weight of Karl’s body; and it was plain that, but for this contrivance, they could never have crossed. When half-way to the point where this stay was attached, the pole bent far below the level of the glacier, and Karl now found it up-hill work to force the runner along. He succeeded, however, in reaching the stay-rope in safety.Now he had arrived at one of the “knottiest” points of the whole performance. Of course, the runner could go no farther, as it was intercepted by the stay. It was necessary, therefore, to detach it altogether from the pole, and then readjust it on the other side of the cable.Karl had not come thus far to be stopped by a difficulty of so trifling a kind. He had already considered how he should act at this crisis, and he delayed only a moment to rest himself. Aided by the mainstay itself, which served him for a hand-rope, he mounted cross-legs upon the timber, and then, without much trouble, shifted his runner to the opposite side. This done, he once more “sprang to his stirrup,” and continued onward.As he approached the opposite edge of the chasm, he again encountered the up-hill difficulty; but a little patience and some extra exertion brought him nearer and nearer, and still nearer, until at last his feet kicked against the icy wall.With a slight effort, he drew himself upon the glacier; and, stepping a pace from the brink, he pulled off his cap, and waved it in the air. A huzza from the opposite side answered his own shout of triumph. But louder still was the cheer, and far more heartfelt and joyous, when, half-an-hour afterwards, all three stood side by side, and, safe over, looked back upon the yawning gulf they had crossed!Only they who have escaped from some terrible doom—a dungeon, or death itself—can understand the full, deep emotions of joy, that at that moment thrilled within the hearts of Karl, Caspar, and Ossaroo.Alas! alas! it was a short-lived joy,—a moment of happiness to be succeeded by the most poignant misery,—a gleam of light followed by the darkest of clouds!Ten minutes had scarce elapsed. They had freed Fritz from his yak-skin envelope, and had started down the glacier, impatient to get out of that gloomy defile. Scarce five hundred steps had they taken, when a sight came under their eyes that caused them suddenly to hall, and turn to each other with blanched cheeks and looks of dread import. Not one of them spoke a word, but all stood pointing significantly down the ravine. Words were not needed. The thing spoke for itself.Another crevasse, far wider than the one they had just crossed, yawned before them! It stretched from side to side of the icy mass; like the former, impinging on either cliff. It was full two hundred feet in width, and how deep. Ugh! they dared hardly look into its awful chasm! It was clearly impassable. Even the dog appeared to be aware of this; for he had stopped upon its edge, and stood in an attitude of fear, now and then uttering a melancholy howl!Yes, it was impassable. A glance was sufficient to tell that; but they were not satisfied with a glance. They stood upon its brink, and regarded it for a long while, and with many a wistful gaze; then, with slow steps and heavy hearts, they turned mechanically away.I shall not repeat their mournful conversation. I shall not detail the incidents of their backward journey to the valley. I need not describe the recrossing of the crevasse—the different feelings with which they now accomplished this perilous feat. All these may be easily imagined.It was near night when, wearied in body and limb—downcast in mien and sick at heart—they reached the hut, and flung themselves despairingly upon the floor.“My God! my God!” exclaimed Karl, in the agony of his soul, “how long is this hovel to be our home?”
I know you are smiling at this very poor substitute for a bridge, and wondering how they who built it were going to cross upon it. Climbing a Maypole would be nothing to such a feat. It may seem easy enough to cling to a pole six inches in diameter, and even to “swarm” along it for some yards, but when you come to talk of a hundred feet of such progression, and that over a yawning chasm, the very sight of which is enough to make the head giddy and the heart faint, then the thing becomes a feat indeed. Had there been no other mode of getting over, like enough our heroes would have endeavoured to cross in that way.
Ossaroo, who had “swarmed” up the stem of many a bamboo and tall palm-tree, would have thought nothing of it; but for Karl and Caspar, who were not such climbers, it would have been rather perilous. They had, therefore, designed a safer plan.
Each was provided with a sort of yoke, formed out of a tough sapling that had been sweated in the fire and then bent into a triangular shape. It was a rude isosceles triangle, tied tightly at the apex with rawhide thongs; and thereto was attached a piece of well-twistedrope, the object of which was to form a knot or loop over the pole, to act as a runner. The feet of the passenger were to rest on the base of the yoke, which would serve as a stirrup to support the body, while one arm would hug the pole, leaving the other free to push forward the runner by short gradations. In this way each was to work himself across. Their guns, and the few other things, were to be tightly strapped to their backs. They had only those that were worth bringing along. As for Fritz, he was not to be left behind, although the transporting him across had offered for some time a serious difficulty. Ossaroo, however, had removed the difficulty by proposing to tie the dog up in a skin and strap him on his (Ossaroo’s) own back, and thus carry him over. It would be nothing to Ossaroo.
In less than half-an-hour after the bridge was in its place, the three were ready to cross. There they stood, each holding the odd-looking stirrup in his hand, with hisimpedimentastrapped securely on his back. The head of Fritz, just showing above the shoulder of the shikarree, while his body was shrouded in a piece of shaggy yak-skin, presented a very ludicrous spectacle, and his countenance wore quite a serio-comical expression. He seemed quite puzzled as to what was going to be done with him.
Ossaroo proposed crossing first; and then Caspar, brave as a lion, said that he was thelightest, andoughtto gofirst. Karl would not listen to either of them, Karl alleged that, as he was the builder of the bridge, by all usage it was his place to make trial of it. Karl being the Sahib of the party, and, of course, the man of most authority, carried his point.
Stepping cautiously to the point where the pole rested on the ice, he looped the rawhide rope over it, and then suffered the yoke to drop down. He then grasped the pole tightly in his arms, and placed his feet firmly in the stirrup. For a moment or two, he pressed heavily upon the latter, so as to test its strength, while he held on by the beam above; and then, disengaging his left arm, he pushed the runner forward upon the pole, to the distance of a foot or more. This, of course, carried the stirrup along with it, as well as his feet; and then, throwing forward the upper part of his body, he swung himself out above the abyss.
It was a fearful sight, even to those who watched him, and would have been too perilous a feat for idle play; but the very nature of their circumstances had hardened them to undergo the danger.
After a time, Karl was far out from the ice, and seemed to hang upon a thread between heaven and earth!
Had the pole slipped at either end, it would have precipitated the adventurous Karl into the chasm; but they had taken every precaution against this. At the nearer end, they had rendered it secure by rolling immense rocks upon it; while, on the opposite side, it was held in its place by the cable, that had been drawn as tight as the pulley could make it.
Notwithstanding the mainstay in the middle, it sank considerably under the weight of Karl’s body; and it was plain that, but for this contrivance, they could never have crossed. When half-way to the point where this stay was attached, the pole bent far below the level of the glacier, and Karl now found it up-hill work to force the runner along. He succeeded, however, in reaching the stay-rope in safety.
Now he had arrived at one of the “knottiest” points of the whole performance. Of course, the runner could go no farther, as it was intercepted by the stay. It was necessary, therefore, to detach it altogether from the pole, and then readjust it on the other side of the cable.
Karl had not come thus far to be stopped by a difficulty of so trifling a kind. He had already considered how he should act at this crisis, and he delayed only a moment to rest himself. Aided by the mainstay itself, which served him for a hand-rope, he mounted cross-legs upon the timber, and then, without much trouble, shifted his runner to the opposite side. This done, he once more “sprang to his stirrup,” and continued onward.
As he approached the opposite edge of the chasm, he again encountered the up-hill difficulty; but a little patience and some extra exertion brought him nearer and nearer, and still nearer, until at last his feet kicked against the icy wall.
With a slight effort, he drew himself upon the glacier; and, stepping a pace from the brink, he pulled off his cap, and waved it in the air. A huzza from the opposite side answered his own shout of triumph. But louder still was the cheer, and far more heartfelt and joyous, when, half-an-hour afterwards, all three stood side by side, and, safe over, looked back upon the yawning gulf they had crossed!
Only they who have escaped from some terrible doom—a dungeon, or death itself—can understand the full, deep emotions of joy, that at that moment thrilled within the hearts of Karl, Caspar, and Ossaroo.
Alas! alas! it was a short-lived joy,—a moment of happiness to be succeeded by the most poignant misery,—a gleam of light followed by the darkest of clouds!
Ten minutes had scarce elapsed. They had freed Fritz from his yak-skin envelope, and had started down the glacier, impatient to get out of that gloomy defile. Scarce five hundred steps had they taken, when a sight came under their eyes that caused them suddenly to hall, and turn to each other with blanched cheeks and looks of dread import. Not one of them spoke a word, but all stood pointing significantly down the ravine. Words were not needed. The thing spoke for itself.
Another crevasse, far wider than the one they had just crossed, yawned before them! It stretched from side to side of the icy mass; like the former, impinging on either cliff. It was full two hundred feet in width, and how deep. Ugh! they dared hardly look into its awful chasm! It was clearly impassable. Even the dog appeared to be aware of this; for he had stopped upon its edge, and stood in an attitude of fear, now and then uttering a melancholy howl!
Yes, it was impassable. A glance was sufficient to tell that; but they were not satisfied with a glance. They stood upon its brink, and regarded it for a long while, and with many a wistful gaze; then, with slow steps and heavy hearts, they turned mechanically away.
I shall not repeat their mournful conversation. I shall not detail the incidents of their backward journey to the valley. I need not describe the recrossing of the crevasse—the different feelings with which they now accomplished this perilous feat. All these may be easily imagined.
It was near night when, wearied in body and limb—downcast in mien and sick at heart—they reached the hut, and flung themselves despairingly upon the floor.
“My God! my God!” exclaimed Karl, in the agony of his soul, “how long is this hovel to be our home?”
Chapter Forty Four.New Hopes.That night was passed without much sleep. Painful reflections filled the minds of all and kept them awake—the thoughts that follow disappointed hopes. When they did sleep it was more painful than waking. Their dreams were fearful. They dreamt of yawning gulfs and steep precipices—of being suspended in the air, and every moment about to fall into vast depths where they would be crushed to atoms. Their dreams, that were only distorted pictures of the day’s experience, had all the vividness of reality, and far more vivid in their horror. Often when one or other of them was awakened by the approaching climax of the dream, he endeavoured to keep awake rather than go through even in a vision such horrible scenes.Even the dog Fritz was not free from similar sufferings. His mournful whimpering told that his sleep like theirs was troubled and uneasy.A bright sunshiny morning had its beneficial effect upon all of them. It aided the reaction—consequent on a night of such a dismal character—and as they ate their breakfasts of broiled meat they were again almost cheerful. The buoyancy of Caspar’s spirits had well-nigh returned, and his fine appetite showed itself in full vigour. Indeed all of them ate heartily, for on the preceding day they had scarce allowed themselves time to taste food.“If we must remain here always,” said Caspar, “I see no reason why we need starve ourselves! There’s plenty to eat, and a variety of it, I can say. I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some fish. I am sure I have seen trout leap in the lake. Let us try a fly to-day. What say you, Karl?”Caspar said this with the intention of cheering his brother.“I see no harm in it,” answered the quiet botanist. “I think there are fish in the lake. I have heard there is a very eatable kind of fish in all the rivers of the Himalayas, known as the ‘Himalayan trout’—though it is misnamed, for it is not a trout but a species of carp. It may be found here, I dare say; although it is difficult, to imagine how fish could get into this sequestered lake.”“Well,” rejoined Caspar, “we must think of some plan to get them out of it. We have neither nets, rods, hooks, nor lines. What’s to be done? Can you think of any way of taking the fish, Ossaroo?”“Ah! Sahib,” replied the shikarree, “give me bamboo, me soon make net to takee fish—no bamboo—no net—no matter for net—Ossaroo poison the water—get all da fish.”“What! poison the water? how would you do that? Where is the poison?”“Me soon find poison—bikh poison do.”“‘Bikh’ poison—what is that?”“Come, Sahib! me show you bikh plant—plenty grow here.”Both Karl and Caspar rose and followed the shikarree.They had not gone many paces when their guide stooped and pointed to a plant that grew in plenty about the place. It was an herbaceous plant, having a stem nearly six feet high, and rather broad digitate leaves, with a loose spike of showy yellow flowers at the top.Caspar rather hastily took hold of one of the plants; and, plucking off the spike, held it to his nose, to see whether the flowers had any perfume. But Caspar dropped the nosegay as hastily as he had seized it, and with an exclamation of terror turned towards his brother, into whose arms he staggered half swooning! Fortunately he had taken but a very slight “sniff” of that dangerous perfume, else he might have been laid up for days. As it was he felt giddy for hours after.Now this singular plant the botanist Karl recognised at a glance. It was a species of aconite, or wolf’s-bane, andverysimilar to the kindred species,Aconitum napellus, or “monk’s hood,” of Europe, whose roots furnish the most potent of poisons.The whole plant—leaves, flowers, and stem—is of a poisonous nature, but the roots, which resemble small turnips, contain the essence of the poison. There are many species of the plant found in different parts of the world, and nearly a dozen kinds in the Himalaya Mountains themselves; but the one pointed out by Ossaroo was theAconitum feroxof botanists, the species from which the celebrated “bikh” poison of the Hindoos is obtained.Ossaroo then proposed to poison the fish by throwing a sufficient quantity of the roots and stems of the plant into the lake.This proposal, however, was rejected by Karl, who very properly observed, that although by that means they might obtain a plentiful supply of fish, they would destroy more than they could use at the time, and perhaps leave none for the future. Karl had already begun to talk about a “future” to be spent on the shores of this lovely lake. The belief that they might never go out of the valley was already taking shape in the minds of all three, though they did not care to give expression to such sad imaginings.Karl tried to be cheerful, as he saw that Caspar was gay.“Come,” said he, “let us not mind the fish to-day. I own that fish is usually the first course, but go along with me. Let us see what kind of vegetables our garden has got. I am sure we may live better if we only try. For my part I am getting tired of broiled meat, and neither bread nor vegetables to eat along with it. Here I dare say we shall find both; for whether it be due to the birds, or its peculiar climate—or a little to both most likely—our valley has a flora such as you can only meet with in a botanic garden. Come then! let us see what we can find for the pot.”So saying Karl led the way, followed by Caspar, Ossaroo, and the faithful Fritz.“Look up there!” said the botanist, pointing to a tall pine that grew near. “See those large cones. Inside them we shall obtain seeds, as large as pistachio-nuts, and very good to eat. By roasting them, we can make an excellent substitute for bread.”“Ha, indeed!” exclaimed Caspar, “that is a pine-tree. What large cones! They are as big as artichokes. What sort of pine is it, brother?”“It is one of the kind known as the ‘edible pines,’ because their seeds are fit for food. It is the species called by botanistsPinus Gerardiana, or the ‘neosa’ pine. There are pines whose seeds are eatable in other parts of the world, as well as in the Himalaya Mountains,—for instance, thePinus cembraof Europe, the ‘ghik’ of Japan, the ‘Lambert’ pine of California, and several species in New Mexico, known among the people as ‘piñon’ trees. So you perceive that besides their valuable timber—to say nothing of their pitch, turpentine, and resin—the family of the pines also furnishes food to the human race. We shall get some bread from those cones whenever we desire it!”So saying, Karl continued on in the direction of the lake.“There again!” said he, pointing to a gigantic herbaceous plant, “rhubarb, you see!”It was, in fact, the true rhubarb, which grows wild among the Himalaya Mountains, and whose great broad red-edged leaves, contrasting with its tall pyramid of yellow bracts, render it one of the most striking and beautiful of herbaceous plants. Its large acid stems—which are hollow and full of pure water—are eaten by the natives of the Himalayas, both raw and boiled, and its leaves when dried are smoked as tobacco. But there was a smaller species that grew near, which Ossaroo said produced much better tobacco; and Ossaroo was good authority, since he had already dried some of the leaves, and had been smoking them ever since their arrival in the valley. In fact, Ossaroo was quite out of betel-nut, and suffered so much from the want of his favourite stimulant, that he was glad to get any thing to smoke; and the “chula,” or wild rhubarb-leaves, answered his purpose well. Ossaroo’s pipe was an original one certainty; and he could construct one in a few minutes. His plan was to thrust a piece of stick into the ground, passing it underneath the surface—horizontally for a few inches, and then out again—so as to form a double orifice to the hole. At one end of this channel he would insert a small joint of reed for his mouth-piece, while the other was filled with the rhubarb tobacco, which was then set on fire. It was literally turning the earth into a tobacco-pipe!This method of smoking is by no means uncommon among the half-civilised inhabitants of India as well as Africa, and Ossaroo preferred a pipe of this kind to any other.Karl continued onward, pointing out to his companions several species of edible roots, fruits, and vegetables which the valley contained. There were wild leeks among the number. These would assist them in making soup. There were fruits too,—several species of currants, and cherries, and strawberries, and raspberries,—kinds that had long been introduced to European gardens, and that to Karl and Caspar looked like old acquaintances.“And there!” continued Karl, “see the very water produces food for us. Look at the lotus, (Nelumbium speciosum). Those large pink and white flowers are the flowers of the famed lotus. Its stalks may be eaten, or, if you will, their hollow tubes will serve us as cups to drink, out of. There, too, is the horned water root (Trapa bicornis), also excellent eating. Oh! we should be thankful. We are well provided with food.”Yet the heart of Karl was sore while thus endeavouring to talk cheerfully.
That night was passed without much sleep. Painful reflections filled the minds of all and kept them awake—the thoughts that follow disappointed hopes. When they did sleep it was more painful than waking. Their dreams were fearful. They dreamt of yawning gulfs and steep precipices—of being suspended in the air, and every moment about to fall into vast depths where they would be crushed to atoms. Their dreams, that were only distorted pictures of the day’s experience, had all the vividness of reality, and far more vivid in their horror. Often when one or other of them was awakened by the approaching climax of the dream, he endeavoured to keep awake rather than go through even in a vision such horrible scenes.
Even the dog Fritz was not free from similar sufferings. His mournful whimpering told that his sleep like theirs was troubled and uneasy.
A bright sunshiny morning had its beneficial effect upon all of them. It aided the reaction—consequent on a night of such a dismal character—and as they ate their breakfasts of broiled meat they were again almost cheerful. The buoyancy of Caspar’s spirits had well-nigh returned, and his fine appetite showed itself in full vigour. Indeed all of them ate heartily, for on the preceding day they had scarce allowed themselves time to taste food.
“If we must remain here always,” said Caspar, “I see no reason why we need starve ourselves! There’s plenty to eat, and a variety of it, I can say. I don’t see why we shouldn’t have some fish. I am sure I have seen trout leap in the lake. Let us try a fly to-day. What say you, Karl?”
Caspar said this with the intention of cheering his brother.
“I see no harm in it,” answered the quiet botanist. “I think there are fish in the lake. I have heard there is a very eatable kind of fish in all the rivers of the Himalayas, known as the ‘Himalayan trout’—though it is misnamed, for it is not a trout but a species of carp. It may be found here, I dare say; although it is difficult, to imagine how fish could get into this sequestered lake.”
“Well,” rejoined Caspar, “we must think of some plan to get them out of it. We have neither nets, rods, hooks, nor lines. What’s to be done? Can you think of any way of taking the fish, Ossaroo?”
“Ah! Sahib,” replied the shikarree, “give me bamboo, me soon make net to takee fish—no bamboo—no net—no matter for net—Ossaroo poison the water—get all da fish.”
“What! poison the water? how would you do that? Where is the poison?”
“Me soon find poison—bikh poison do.”
“‘Bikh’ poison—what is that?”
“Come, Sahib! me show you bikh plant—plenty grow here.”
Both Karl and Caspar rose and followed the shikarree.
They had not gone many paces when their guide stooped and pointed to a plant that grew in plenty about the place. It was an herbaceous plant, having a stem nearly six feet high, and rather broad digitate leaves, with a loose spike of showy yellow flowers at the top.
Caspar rather hastily took hold of one of the plants; and, plucking off the spike, held it to his nose, to see whether the flowers had any perfume. But Caspar dropped the nosegay as hastily as he had seized it, and with an exclamation of terror turned towards his brother, into whose arms he staggered half swooning! Fortunately he had taken but a very slight “sniff” of that dangerous perfume, else he might have been laid up for days. As it was he felt giddy for hours after.
Now this singular plant the botanist Karl recognised at a glance. It was a species of aconite, or wolf’s-bane, andverysimilar to the kindred species,Aconitum napellus, or “monk’s hood,” of Europe, whose roots furnish the most potent of poisons.
The whole plant—leaves, flowers, and stem—is of a poisonous nature, but the roots, which resemble small turnips, contain the essence of the poison. There are many species of the plant found in different parts of the world, and nearly a dozen kinds in the Himalaya Mountains themselves; but the one pointed out by Ossaroo was theAconitum feroxof botanists, the species from which the celebrated “bikh” poison of the Hindoos is obtained.
Ossaroo then proposed to poison the fish by throwing a sufficient quantity of the roots and stems of the plant into the lake.
This proposal, however, was rejected by Karl, who very properly observed, that although by that means they might obtain a plentiful supply of fish, they would destroy more than they could use at the time, and perhaps leave none for the future. Karl had already begun to talk about a “future” to be spent on the shores of this lovely lake. The belief that they might never go out of the valley was already taking shape in the minds of all three, though they did not care to give expression to such sad imaginings.
Karl tried to be cheerful, as he saw that Caspar was gay.
“Come,” said he, “let us not mind the fish to-day. I own that fish is usually the first course, but go along with me. Let us see what kind of vegetables our garden has got. I am sure we may live better if we only try. For my part I am getting tired of broiled meat, and neither bread nor vegetables to eat along with it. Here I dare say we shall find both; for whether it be due to the birds, or its peculiar climate—or a little to both most likely—our valley has a flora such as you can only meet with in a botanic garden. Come then! let us see what we can find for the pot.”
So saying Karl led the way, followed by Caspar, Ossaroo, and the faithful Fritz.
“Look up there!” said the botanist, pointing to a tall pine that grew near. “See those large cones. Inside them we shall obtain seeds, as large as pistachio-nuts, and very good to eat. By roasting them, we can make an excellent substitute for bread.”
“Ha, indeed!” exclaimed Caspar, “that is a pine-tree. What large cones! They are as big as artichokes. What sort of pine is it, brother?”
“It is one of the kind known as the ‘edible pines,’ because their seeds are fit for food. It is the species called by botanistsPinus Gerardiana, or the ‘neosa’ pine. There are pines whose seeds are eatable in other parts of the world, as well as in the Himalaya Mountains,—for instance, thePinus cembraof Europe, the ‘ghik’ of Japan, the ‘Lambert’ pine of California, and several species in New Mexico, known among the people as ‘piñon’ trees. So you perceive that besides their valuable timber—to say nothing of their pitch, turpentine, and resin—the family of the pines also furnishes food to the human race. We shall get some bread from those cones whenever we desire it!”
So saying, Karl continued on in the direction of the lake.
“There again!” said he, pointing to a gigantic herbaceous plant, “rhubarb, you see!”
It was, in fact, the true rhubarb, which grows wild among the Himalaya Mountains, and whose great broad red-edged leaves, contrasting with its tall pyramid of yellow bracts, render it one of the most striking and beautiful of herbaceous plants. Its large acid stems—which are hollow and full of pure water—are eaten by the natives of the Himalayas, both raw and boiled, and its leaves when dried are smoked as tobacco. But there was a smaller species that grew near, which Ossaroo said produced much better tobacco; and Ossaroo was good authority, since he had already dried some of the leaves, and had been smoking them ever since their arrival in the valley. In fact, Ossaroo was quite out of betel-nut, and suffered so much from the want of his favourite stimulant, that he was glad to get any thing to smoke; and the “chula,” or wild rhubarb-leaves, answered his purpose well. Ossaroo’s pipe was an original one certainty; and he could construct one in a few minutes. His plan was to thrust a piece of stick into the ground, passing it underneath the surface—horizontally for a few inches, and then out again—so as to form a double orifice to the hole. At one end of this channel he would insert a small joint of reed for his mouth-piece, while the other was filled with the rhubarb tobacco, which was then set on fire. It was literally turning the earth into a tobacco-pipe!
This method of smoking is by no means uncommon among the half-civilised inhabitants of India as well as Africa, and Ossaroo preferred a pipe of this kind to any other.
Karl continued onward, pointing out to his companions several species of edible roots, fruits, and vegetables which the valley contained. There were wild leeks among the number. These would assist them in making soup. There were fruits too,—several species of currants, and cherries, and strawberries, and raspberries,—kinds that had long been introduced to European gardens, and that to Karl and Caspar looked like old acquaintances.
“And there!” continued Karl, “see the very water produces food for us. Look at the lotus, (Nelumbium speciosum). Those large pink and white flowers are the flowers of the famed lotus. Its stalks may be eaten, or, if you will, their hollow tubes will serve us as cups to drink, out of. There, too, is the horned water root (Trapa bicornis), also excellent eating. Oh! we should be thankful. We are well provided with food.”
Yet the heart of Karl was sore while thus endeavouring to talk cheerfully.
Chapter Forty Five.New Survey of the Cliff.Yes, the hearts of all three were far from being contented, though they returned to the hut laden with fruits, and roots, and nuts, and vegetables; out of which they intended to concoct a better dinner than they had been lately accustomed to.The rest of that day was spent about the hut, and a good deal of it was given up to culinary operations. Not that any of the party cared so much for a good dinner; but being thus engaged prevented them from reflecting as much as they would otherwise have done upon their painful situation. Besides, they had no other work to do. They had no longer a motive for doing any thing. Up to that moment the preparing the ropes and timbers of the bridge had kept them employed; and the very work itself, combined with the hope which they then felt, enabled them to pass the time pleasantly enough. Now that these hopes were no more,—that their whole scheme had ended in failure, they felt restless,—and could think of nothing upon which to employ themselves. Preparing their dinner, therefore, out of the new and varied materials that had come into their hands, was, at least, some distraction to their gloomy thoughts.When dinner was ready, all of them ate heartily, and with a relish. Indeed, they had been so long without vegetables that these tasted to them as fine as any they had ever eaten. Even the wild fruits appeared equal to the best they had ever gathered from an orchard!It was a little after midday, as they were enjoying this dessert. They were seated in the open air, in front of the hut, and Caspar was doing most part of the talking, he was doing his best to be cheerful, and to make his companions so as well.“They’re the best strawberries I’ve eaten for a month,” said he; “but I think a trifle of sugar and a drop of cream would be an improvement. What say you, Karl?”“It would,” he replied, nodding assent.“We did wrong to kill all our cows,” continued Caspar, with a significant look at one of the yak-skins that lay near.“By-the-bye,” said Karl, interrupting him, “I was just thinking of that. If we are to stay here all our lives,—oh!”The painful reflection, again crossing Karl’s mind, caused him to exclaim as he did. He left his hypothetic sentence unfinished, and relapsed into silence.Several days after this Karl left the hut, and, without telling his intention to either of his companions, walked off in the direction of the cliffs. Indeed, he had no very definite nor determined aim in so doing; a sort of hopeless idea had come into his mind of making the circuit of the valley, and once more surveying the precipice all round it.Neither of the others offered to accompany him, nor did they question him as to his object in setting out. Both had gone about business of their own. Caspar had become engaged in making a wash-rod for his gun, and Ossaroo a net to catch the large and beautiful fish that abounded in the lake. Karl, therefore, was permitted to set forth alone.On reaching the precipice, he turned along its base, and walked slowly forward, stopping every yard or two, and looking upward. Every foot—nay, I might say every inch, of the cliff did he scan with care,—even with more care than he had hitherto done; though that would appear hardly possible, for on the former occasions on which the three had examined it, their reconnoissance had been most particular andminute.But a new idea had shadowed itself in the mind of Karl; and it was in obedience to this, that he now proceeded with a fresh examination of the precipitous enclosure that imprisoned them. It is true it was but a sort of forlorn hope that he had conceived; but a forlorn hope was better than no hope at all, and therefore Karl was determined to be satisfied.The thought that had been forming in his mind was, that after all it might be possible for them toscale the cliff. That they could not do so by climbing he was already satisfied; as were all three. Of this their former examinations had convinced them. But there were other ways of getting up a precipice, besides merely climbing with one’s hands and feet; and one of these ways, as already said, had for some time been shadowing itself in the mind of Karl.What plan, you will ask, had he now conceived? Did he design to make use of ropes?Not at all. Ropes could be of no service to him in going up a cliff. They might, had they been fastened at the top; for then both he and his companions would soon have contrived some way of getting up the ropes. They could have made a ladder of a single rope by which they might have ascended, by simply knotting pieces of sticks at short intervals, to serve as rests for their feet, and they knew this well. Such a contrivance would have suited admirably, if they had been required todescenda precipice, for then they could have let the rope down, and fastened it at the top themselves. But to go up was altogether a different operation; and it was necessary for at least one to be above to render it at all practicable or possible. Of course, if one could have got to the top by any means, the others could have done so by the same; and then the rope-ladder would not have been needed at all.No. Such a contrivance could not be used, and indeed they had never thought of it—since to the meanest comprehension it was plainly impossible. Karl therefore was not thinking of a rope-ladder.Nevertheless it was actually about aladderthat he was thinking—not made of ropes, but of timber—of sides and rounds like any other ladder.“What!” you will exclaim, “a ladder by which to scale the cliff! Why, you have told us that it was three hundred feet in sheer height? The longest ladder in the world would not reach a third of the way up such a precipice. Even a fireman’s ladder, that is made to reach to the tops of the highest houses, would be of no use for such a height as that?”“Quite true! I know all that as well as you,” would have been Karl’s reply to your objections.“What, then, Master Karl? Do you design to make a ladder that will be taller than all we have ever seen—tall enough to reach to the top of a precipice three hundred feet high? We know you have both energy and perseverance; and, after witnessing the way that you worked at the building of your bridge, and the skill with which you built it, we are ready to believe that you can accomplish a very great feat in the joiner’s line; but thatyoucan make a ladder three hundred feet in length, we are not prepared to believe—not if you had a whole chest of tools and the best timber in the world. We know you might put a ladder together ever so long, but would it hold together? or even if it did, how could you set it up against the cliff? Never. Three of the strongest men could not do it,—nor six neither,—nor a dozen, without machinery to assist them; therefore scaling the cliff by means of a wooden ladder is plainly impracticable; and if that be your idea, you may as well abandon it.”“Quite true, I know all this as well as you,” would have been Karl’s reply; “but I had no idea of being able to scale the cliff by means of a ladder. It was not ofa ladder, but ofladders, I was thinking.”“Ha! there may be something in that.”Karl knew well enough that no single ladder could be made of sufficient length and strength to have reached from the bottom to the top of that great wall; or if such could be constructed, he knew equally well that it would be impossible to set it up.But the idea that had been forming in his mind was, that several ladders might effect the purpose—one placed above another, and each one resting upon aledge of the cliff, to which the one next below should enable them to ascend.In this idea there was really some shadow of practicability, though, as I have said, it was but a very forlorn hope. The amount of its practicableness depended upon the existence of theledges; and it was to ascertain this that Karl had set forth.If such ledges could be found, the hope would no longer have been forlorn. Karl believed that with time and energy the ladders might be constructed, notwithstanding the poor stock of carpenter’s tools at their service; though he had scarce yet thought of how the holes were to be made to receive the rounds, or how the ladders themselves might be set upon the ledges, or any other detail of the plan. He was too eager to be satisfied about the first and most important point—whether there were ledges that would answer the purpose?With his eyes, therefore, keenly scanning the face of the cliff, he kept on along its base, walking slowly, and in silence.
Yes, the hearts of all three were far from being contented, though they returned to the hut laden with fruits, and roots, and nuts, and vegetables; out of which they intended to concoct a better dinner than they had been lately accustomed to.
The rest of that day was spent about the hut, and a good deal of it was given up to culinary operations. Not that any of the party cared so much for a good dinner; but being thus engaged prevented them from reflecting as much as they would otherwise have done upon their painful situation. Besides, they had no other work to do. They had no longer a motive for doing any thing. Up to that moment the preparing the ropes and timbers of the bridge had kept them employed; and the very work itself, combined with the hope which they then felt, enabled them to pass the time pleasantly enough. Now that these hopes were no more,—that their whole scheme had ended in failure, they felt restless,—and could think of nothing upon which to employ themselves. Preparing their dinner, therefore, out of the new and varied materials that had come into their hands, was, at least, some distraction to their gloomy thoughts.
When dinner was ready, all of them ate heartily, and with a relish. Indeed, they had been so long without vegetables that these tasted to them as fine as any they had ever eaten. Even the wild fruits appeared equal to the best they had ever gathered from an orchard!
It was a little after midday, as they were enjoying this dessert. They were seated in the open air, in front of the hut, and Caspar was doing most part of the talking, he was doing his best to be cheerful, and to make his companions so as well.
“They’re the best strawberries I’ve eaten for a month,” said he; “but I think a trifle of sugar and a drop of cream would be an improvement. What say you, Karl?”
“It would,” he replied, nodding assent.
“We did wrong to kill all our cows,” continued Caspar, with a significant look at one of the yak-skins that lay near.
“By-the-bye,” said Karl, interrupting him, “I was just thinking of that. If we are to stay here all our lives,—oh!”
The painful reflection, again crossing Karl’s mind, caused him to exclaim as he did. He left his hypothetic sentence unfinished, and relapsed into silence.
Several days after this Karl left the hut, and, without telling his intention to either of his companions, walked off in the direction of the cliffs. Indeed, he had no very definite nor determined aim in so doing; a sort of hopeless idea had come into his mind of making the circuit of the valley, and once more surveying the precipice all round it.
Neither of the others offered to accompany him, nor did they question him as to his object in setting out. Both had gone about business of their own. Caspar had become engaged in making a wash-rod for his gun, and Ossaroo a net to catch the large and beautiful fish that abounded in the lake. Karl, therefore, was permitted to set forth alone.
On reaching the precipice, he turned along its base, and walked slowly forward, stopping every yard or two, and looking upward. Every foot—nay, I might say every inch, of the cliff did he scan with care,—even with more care than he had hitherto done; though that would appear hardly possible, for on the former occasions on which the three had examined it, their reconnoissance had been most particular andminute.
But a new idea had shadowed itself in the mind of Karl; and it was in obedience to this, that he now proceeded with a fresh examination of the precipitous enclosure that imprisoned them. It is true it was but a sort of forlorn hope that he had conceived; but a forlorn hope was better than no hope at all, and therefore Karl was determined to be satisfied.
The thought that had been forming in his mind was, that after all it might be possible for them toscale the cliff. That they could not do so by climbing he was already satisfied; as were all three. Of this their former examinations had convinced them. But there were other ways of getting up a precipice, besides merely climbing with one’s hands and feet; and one of these ways, as already said, had for some time been shadowing itself in the mind of Karl.
What plan, you will ask, had he now conceived? Did he design to make use of ropes?
Not at all. Ropes could be of no service to him in going up a cliff. They might, had they been fastened at the top; for then both he and his companions would soon have contrived some way of getting up the ropes. They could have made a ladder of a single rope by which they might have ascended, by simply knotting pieces of sticks at short intervals, to serve as rests for their feet, and they knew this well. Such a contrivance would have suited admirably, if they had been required todescenda precipice, for then they could have let the rope down, and fastened it at the top themselves. But to go up was altogether a different operation; and it was necessary for at least one to be above to render it at all practicable or possible. Of course, if one could have got to the top by any means, the others could have done so by the same; and then the rope-ladder would not have been needed at all.
No. Such a contrivance could not be used, and indeed they had never thought of it—since to the meanest comprehension it was plainly impossible. Karl therefore was not thinking of a rope-ladder.
Nevertheless it was actually about aladderthat he was thinking—not made of ropes, but of timber—of sides and rounds like any other ladder.
“What!” you will exclaim, “a ladder by which to scale the cliff! Why, you have told us that it was three hundred feet in sheer height? The longest ladder in the world would not reach a third of the way up such a precipice. Even a fireman’s ladder, that is made to reach to the tops of the highest houses, would be of no use for such a height as that?”
“Quite true! I know all that as well as you,” would have been Karl’s reply to your objections.
“What, then, Master Karl? Do you design to make a ladder that will be taller than all we have ever seen—tall enough to reach to the top of a precipice three hundred feet high? We know you have both energy and perseverance; and, after witnessing the way that you worked at the building of your bridge, and the skill with which you built it, we are ready to believe that you can accomplish a very great feat in the joiner’s line; but thatyoucan make a ladder three hundred feet in length, we are not prepared to believe—not if you had a whole chest of tools and the best timber in the world. We know you might put a ladder together ever so long, but would it hold together? or even if it did, how could you set it up against the cliff? Never. Three of the strongest men could not do it,—nor six neither,—nor a dozen, without machinery to assist them; therefore scaling the cliff by means of a wooden ladder is plainly impracticable; and if that be your idea, you may as well abandon it.”
“Quite true, I know all this as well as you,” would have been Karl’s reply; “but I had no idea of being able to scale the cliff by means of a ladder. It was not ofa ladder, but ofladders, I was thinking.”
“Ha! there may be something in that.”
Karl knew well enough that no single ladder could be made of sufficient length and strength to have reached from the bottom to the top of that great wall; or if such could be constructed, he knew equally well that it would be impossible to set it up.
But the idea that had been forming in his mind was, that several ladders might effect the purpose—one placed above another, and each one resting upon aledge of the cliff, to which the one next below should enable them to ascend.
In this idea there was really some shadow of practicability, though, as I have said, it was but a very forlorn hope. The amount of its practicableness depended upon the existence of theledges; and it was to ascertain this that Karl had set forth.
If such ledges could be found, the hope would no longer have been forlorn. Karl believed that with time and energy the ladders might be constructed, notwithstanding the poor stock of carpenter’s tools at their service; though he had scarce yet thought of how the holes were to be made to receive the rounds, or how the ladders themselves might be set upon the ledges, or any other detail of the plan. He was too eager to be satisfied about the first and most important point—whether there were ledges that would answer the purpose?
With his eyes, therefore, keenly scanning the face of the cliff, he kept on along its base, walking slowly, and in silence.
Chapter Forty Six.Karl climbs the Ledge.He continued on until he had reached that end of the valley most remote from the hut, and along the whole of the cliffs that he passed his reconnoissance had been fruitless. He saw many ledges, and some of considerable width—quite wide enough to rest a ladder upon, and also allow it a proper lean to the wall. Some were higher and some lower; but unfortunately they were not above one another, as Karl desired to find them. On the contrary, they were far apart—so that if one of them could have been reached by means of a ladder, as many of them might, this would in no way facilitate communication with the one that was higher up.Of course then, for Karl’s purpose, these ledges were of no avail; and, after observing their relative situations, he passed on with looks of disappointment. At the farthest end of the valley—that is, the place farthest from the hut—there was a little bay, or indentation, in the cliffs. As already stated, there were several of these at intervals around the valley, but the one in question was the largest of any. It was very narrow, only a few yards in width, and about a hundred in depth—that is, a hundred yards from the line, which indicated the general outline of the valley, to the apex of the angle where the indentation ended. Its bottom was nearly upon the same level with that of the valley itself, though it was raised a little higher in some places by loose rocks, and otherdébristhat had fallen from the impending cliffs.Karl had entered this bay, and was regarding its cliffs all around with intense eagerness of glance. Any one who could have seen him at that moment would have observed that his countenance was brightening as he gazed; and that pleasant thoughts were springing up within his bosom. Any one who had seen that face but the moment before, and had looked upon it now, could not fail to have noticed the change that had so suddenly come over it—a perfect contrast in its expression. What had produced this metamorphosis? Something of importance, I warrant; for the young botanist, naturally of a sober turn, but now more than ever so, was not given to sudden transitions of feeling. What, then, was the cause of his joy?A glance at the cliff will answer these interrogatories.At the first glance it might be noted that that part of the precipice surrounding the bay—or ravine, as it might more properly be called—was lower than elsewhere,—perhaps not quite three hundred feet in height. It was not this peculiarity, however, at which Karl was rejoicing. A ladder of three hundred feet was not to be thought of any more than one of three thousand. It was that he had just observed upon the face of the cliff a series of ledges that rose, shelf-like, one above the other. The rock had a seamed or stratified appearance, although it was a species of granite; but the strata were not by any means regular, and the ledges were at unequal distances from each other. Some, too, were broader than the rest, and some appeared very narrow indeed; but many of them were evidently of sufficient width to form the stepping-place for a ladder. The lower ones especially appeared as though they might easily be scaled by a series of ladders, each from twenty to thirty feet long,—but with regard to those near the top, Karl had great doubts. The shelves did not seem more distant from each other than those below, but their horizontal breadth appeared less. This might possibly be an optical delusion, caused by the greater distance from which they were viewed; but if so, it would not much mend the matter for the design which Karl had in view—since the deception that would have given him an advantage in the breadth would have been against him in the height, making the latter too great, perhaps, for any ladder that could be got up.If you have ever stood by the bottom of a great precipice, you may have noticed how difficult it is to judge of the dimensions of an object far up its face. A ledge several feet in width will appear as a mere seam in the rock, and a bird or other creature that may be seen upon it, will, to the eyes of the beholder, be reduced far below its real bulk. Karl was philosopher enough to understand these things, he had studied in an elementary way, the laws of optics, and therefore was not going to come to conclusions too hastily.In order the better to form judgment about the breadth of the ledges, and the height of the respective intervals between them, he stepped back as far as the ground would permit him.Unfortunately this was not far, for the cliff on the other side, as already stated, was but a few paces distant. Consequently he was soon stopped by the rocks, and his situation for viewing the upper portion of the cliff was anything but an advantageous one.He scrambled up one of the highest boulders, and took his survey from its top, but he was still not satisfied with his “point of view.” He saw, however, that it was the best he could obtain; and he remained for a good while upon his perch—with eyes bent upon the opposing precipice, now fixed upon a particular spot, and now wandering in one long sweep from bottom to top, and back again from top to bottom.During this operation the expression upon his face once more changed to one of deep gloom, for he had discovered an obstacle to his designs that appeared insurmountable. One of the spaces between two of the ledges was too great to be spanned by a ladder, and this, too, was high up the cliff. It could never be scaled!He noticed that the first ledge from the bottom was about half as high from the ground as this one was from that immediately below it.Hitherto he had been but guessing at the height; but it now occurred to him that he should throw conjecture aside, and ascertain by actual measurement the distance from the ground to the first ledge. This might be easily accomplished—Karl saw that,—and once done, it would give him a better idea of the distance between the ledges high up.It has been stated that the measurement could be easily made, and that Karl knew this; but how? The ledge appeared to be full forty feet from the ground, and how was it to be reached by a measuring rule? But Karl had no measuring rule; and it was not in that way he intended to go about it.You will be conjecturing that he looked out for a tall sapling, of sufficient length to reach the ledge, and then afterwards ascertained the number of feet and inches of the sapling. Certainly this mode would have done well enough, and Karl would very likely have made use of it, had not an easier offered itself—or one that at the moment appeared readier to him. He could have told the height by triangulation, but that would also have involved the procuring of a sapling—and some tedious calculation besides, which would have required time, with not the most certain results either.Both these plans had occupied his thoughts for a while. The first was rejected on account of the difficulty of obtaining a rod of sufficient length,—the second was set aside by Karl just then perceiving that without much difficulty, he might climb up to the ledge itself. There was a portion of the rock below with a slanting face, and here and there some broken hollows and jutting points that would serve him as foot-holds.Once upon the ledge, the measurement would be simple enough. It would be only to let down a string with a small stone at the end, like a plumber’s line; and then mark how much string it required to reach the ground.He chanced to have about him a longish piece of rawhide thong, that would serve admirably, and to carry out his purpose, he at once determined upon ascending to the ledge.Drawing the thong from his pocket, and attaching to one end of it the piece of stone, he approached the cliff, and commenced scrambling upward.He found it a more difficult task than it had appeared, and it was just as much as he could do to reach the ledge in safety. Had it been Caspar, the climbing would have been a mere bagatelle, used, as the young hunter had been, to the precipices of the Alps while following the rock-loving chamois.But Karl was no great hand at such gymnastic exercises; and he was all out of breath, and a little bit frightened at his rashness, before he had placed himself safely on the shelf.Stepping along it, therefore, till he reached a point where the cliff below was vertical, he dropped his stone and line, and soon completed his measurement. Alas! it proved to be far higher than he had conjectured in viewing it from below. His spirits fell as he contemplated the result. He was now certain that the space higher up could not be spanned by any ladder they might be able to construct.With sad heart, he returned to the place where he had made the ascent, intending to go down again. But it is sometimes easier to say go down than to do it; and to Karl’s great consternation he saw at the first glance that he could no more go down than fly upward into the air. Beyond a doubt he was in a fix; regularly “nailed” upon the cliff.
He continued on until he had reached that end of the valley most remote from the hut, and along the whole of the cliffs that he passed his reconnoissance had been fruitless. He saw many ledges, and some of considerable width—quite wide enough to rest a ladder upon, and also allow it a proper lean to the wall. Some were higher and some lower; but unfortunately they were not above one another, as Karl desired to find them. On the contrary, they were far apart—so that if one of them could have been reached by means of a ladder, as many of them might, this would in no way facilitate communication with the one that was higher up.
Of course then, for Karl’s purpose, these ledges were of no avail; and, after observing their relative situations, he passed on with looks of disappointment. At the farthest end of the valley—that is, the place farthest from the hut—there was a little bay, or indentation, in the cliffs. As already stated, there were several of these at intervals around the valley, but the one in question was the largest of any. It was very narrow, only a few yards in width, and about a hundred in depth—that is, a hundred yards from the line, which indicated the general outline of the valley, to the apex of the angle where the indentation ended. Its bottom was nearly upon the same level with that of the valley itself, though it was raised a little higher in some places by loose rocks, and otherdébristhat had fallen from the impending cliffs.
Karl had entered this bay, and was regarding its cliffs all around with intense eagerness of glance. Any one who could have seen him at that moment would have observed that his countenance was brightening as he gazed; and that pleasant thoughts were springing up within his bosom. Any one who had seen that face but the moment before, and had looked upon it now, could not fail to have noticed the change that had so suddenly come over it—a perfect contrast in its expression. What had produced this metamorphosis? Something of importance, I warrant; for the young botanist, naturally of a sober turn, but now more than ever so, was not given to sudden transitions of feeling. What, then, was the cause of his joy?
A glance at the cliff will answer these interrogatories.
At the first glance it might be noted that that part of the precipice surrounding the bay—or ravine, as it might more properly be called—was lower than elsewhere,—perhaps not quite three hundred feet in height. It was not this peculiarity, however, at which Karl was rejoicing. A ladder of three hundred feet was not to be thought of any more than one of three thousand. It was that he had just observed upon the face of the cliff a series of ledges that rose, shelf-like, one above the other. The rock had a seamed or stratified appearance, although it was a species of granite; but the strata were not by any means regular, and the ledges were at unequal distances from each other. Some, too, were broader than the rest, and some appeared very narrow indeed; but many of them were evidently of sufficient width to form the stepping-place for a ladder. The lower ones especially appeared as though they might easily be scaled by a series of ladders, each from twenty to thirty feet long,—but with regard to those near the top, Karl had great doubts. The shelves did not seem more distant from each other than those below, but their horizontal breadth appeared less. This might possibly be an optical delusion, caused by the greater distance from which they were viewed; but if so, it would not much mend the matter for the design which Karl had in view—since the deception that would have given him an advantage in the breadth would have been against him in the height, making the latter too great, perhaps, for any ladder that could be got up.
If you have ever stood by the bottom of a great precipice, you may have noticed how difficult it is to judge of the dimensions of an object far up its face. A ledge several feet in width will appear as a mere seam in the rock, and a bird or other creature that may be seen upon it, will, to the eyes of the beholder, be reduced far below its real bulk. Karl was philosopher enough to understand these things, he had studied in an elementary way, the laws of optics, and therefore was not going to come to conclusions too hastily.
In order the better to form judgment about the breadth of the ledges, and the height of the respective intervals between them, he stepped back as far as the ground would permit him.
Unfortunately this was not far, for the cliff on the other side, as already stated, was but a few paces distant. Consequently he was soon stopped by the rocks, and his situation for viewing the upper portion of the cliff was anything but an advantageous one.
He scrambled up one of the highest boulders, and took his survey from its top, but he was still not satisfied with his “point of view.” He saw, however, that it was the best he could obtain; and he remained for a good while upon his perch—with eyes bent upon the opposing precipice, now fixed upon a particular spot, and now wandering in one long sweep from bottom to top, and back again from top to bottom.
During this operation the expression upon his face once more changed to one of deep gloom, for he had discovered an obstacle to his designs that appeared insurmountable. One of the spaces between two of the ledges was too great to be spanned by a ladder, and this, too, was high up the cliff. It could never be scaled!
He noticed that the first ledge from the bottom was about half as high from the ground as this one was from that immediately below it.
Hitherto he had been but guessing at the height; but it now occurred to him that he should throw conjecture aside, and ascertain by actual measurement the distance from the ground to the first ledge. This might be easily accomplished—Karl saw that,—and once done, it would give him a better idea of the distance between the ledges high up.
It has been stated that the measurement could be easily made, and that Karl knew this; but how? The ledge appeared to be full forty feet from the ground, and how was it to be reached by a measuring rule? But Karl had no measuring rule; and it was not in that way he intended to go about it.
You will be conjecturing that he looked out for a tall sapling, of sufficient length to reach the ledge, and then afterwards ascertained the number of feet and inches of the sapling. Certainly this mode would have done well enough, and Karl would very likely have made use of it, had not an easier offered itself—or one that at the moment appeared readier to him. He could have told the height by triangulation, but that would also have involved the procuring of a sapling—and some tedious calculation besides, which would have required time, with not the most certain results either.
Both these plans had occupied his thoughts for a while. The first was rejected on account of the difficulty of obtaining a rod of sufficient length,—the second was set aside by Karl just then perceiving that without much difficulty, he might climb up to the ledge itself. There was a portion of the rock below with a slanting face, and here and there some broken hollows and jutting points that would serve him as foot-holds.
Once upon the ledge, the measurement would be simple enough. It would be only to let down a string with a small stone at the end, like a plumber’s line; and then mark how much string it required to reach the ground.
He chanced to have about him a longish piece of rawhide thong, that would serve admirably, and to carry out his purpose, he at once determined upon ascending to the ledge.
Drawing the thong from his pocket, and attaching to one end of it the piece of stone, he approached the cliff, and commenced scrambling upward.
He found it a more difficult task than it had appeared, and it was just as much as he could do to reach the ledge in safety. Had it been Caspar, the climbing would have been a mere bagatelle, used, as the young hunter had been, to the precipices of the Alps while following the rock-loving chamois.
But Karl was no great hand at such gymnastic exercises; and he was all out of breath, and a little bit frightened at his rashness, before he had placed himself safely on the shelf.
Stepping along it, therefore, till he reached a point where the cliff below was vertical, he dropped his stone and line, and soon completed his measurement. Alas! it proved to be far higher than he had conjectured in viewing it from below. His spirits fell as he contemplated the result. He was now certain that the space higher up could not be spanned by any ladder they might be able to construct.
With sad heart, he returned to the place where he had made the ascent, intending to go down again. But it is sometimes easier to say go down than to do it; and to Karl’s great consternation he saw at the first glance that he could no more go down than fly upward into the air. Beyond a doubt he was in a fix; regularly “nailed” upon the cliff.