The Cliff Climbers

For some seconds I have said not a word was spoken; and then only short exclamations of similar import came trembling from the lips of both. Both, as if acting under a common impulse, flung their guns to the ground. Then, rushing across the glade, they threw their arms around each other; and remained for some moments locked in a brotherly embrace.

No explanation was needed by either. Karl, after passing round the lake by the other side, had strayed by chance in the direction of the glade. On nearing it, he had heard the barking of a kakur – not dreaming that it was Caspar acting as a decoy. He had answered the signal; and finding that the kakur still kept its place, he had advanced toward the opening with the intention of stalking it. On getting nearer he had ceased to utter the call, under the belief that he should find the deer out in the open ground. Just as he arrived by its edge, Caspar was mimicking the kakur in such an admirable manner, and so energetically, that Karl could neither fail to be deceived as to the character of the animal, nor remain ignorant of its position. The darkish disc visible behind the evergreen leaves could be no other than the body of the deer; and Karl was just about cocking his rifle, to bore it with a bullet, when the click of Caspar’s double-barrel sounding ominously in his ear, fortunately conducted to a far different dénouement than that fatal finale which was so near having occurred.

Chapter Thirty One

The signal of the Shikaree.

As if sent to cheer and distract their minds from the feeling of dread awe which still held possession of them, just then the shrill whistle of Ossaroo came pealing across the lake, reverberating in echoes from the cliff toward which he had gone. Shortly after the signal sounded again in a slightly different direction – showing that the shikaree had succeeded in bagging his game, and was returning towards the hut.

On hearing the signal, Karl and Caspar regarded each other with glances of peculiar significance.

“So, brother,” said Caspar, smiling oddly as he spoke, “you see Ossaroo with his despised bow and arrows has beaten us both. What, if either of us had beaten him?”

“Or,” replied Karl, “what if we had both beaten him? Ah! brother Caspar,” added he, shuddering as he spoke, “how near we were to making an end of each other! It’s fearful to think of it!”

“Let us think no more of it then,” rejoined Caspar; “but go home at once and see what sort of a breakfast Ossy has procured for us. I wonder whether it be flesh or fowl.”

“One or the other, no doubt,” he continued, after a short pause. “Fowl, I fancy: for as I came round the lake I heard some oddish screaming in the direction of the cliff yonder, which was that taken by Ossaroo. It appeared to proceed from the throat of some bird; yet such I think I have never heard before.”

“But I have,” replied Karl; “I heard it also. I fancy I know the bird that made those wild notes: and if it be one of them the shikaree has shot, we shall have a breakfast fit for a prince, and of a kind Lucullus delighted to indulge in. But let us obey the signal of our shikaree, and see whether we’re in such good luck.”

They had already regained possession of their guns. Shouldering them, they started forth from the glade – so near being the scene of a tragical event – and, turning the end of the lake, walked briskly back in the direction of the hut.

On coming within view of it, they descried the shikaree sitting upon a stone, just by the doorway; and lying across his knee, a most beautiful bird – by far the most beautiful that either flies in the air, swims in the water, or walks upon the earth – the peacock. Not the half turkey-shaped creature that struts around the farmyard – though he is even more beautiful than any other bird – but the wild peacock of the Ind – of shape slender and elegant – of plumage resplendent as the most priceless of gems – and, what was then of more consequence to our adventurers, of flesh delicate and savoury as the choicest of game. This last was evidently the quality of the peacock most admired by Ossaroo. The elegant shape he had already destroyed; the resplendent plumes he was plucking out and casting to the winds, as though they had been common feathers; and his whole action betokened that he had no more regard for those grand tail feathers and that gorgeous purple corselet, than if it had been a goose, or an old turkey-cock that lay stretched across his knee.

Without saying a word, when the others came up, there was that in Ossaroo’s look – as he glanced furtively towards the young sahibs, and saw that both were empty-handed – that betrayed a certain degree of pride – just enough to show that he was enjoying a triumph. To know that he was the only one who had made a coup, it was not necessary for him to look up. Had either succeeded in killing game, or even in finding it, he must have heard the report of a gun, and none such on that morning had awakened the echoes of the valley. Ossaroo, therefore, knew that a brace of empty game-bags were all that were brought back.

Unlike the young sahibs, he had no particular adventure to relate. His “stalk” had been a very quiet one – ending, as most quiet stalks do, in the death of the animal stalked. He had heard the old peacock screeching on the top of a tall tree; he had stolen up within bow range, sent an arrow through his glittering gorget, and brought him tumbling to the ground. He had then laid his vulgar hands upon the beautiful bird, grasping it by the legs, and carrying it with draggling wings – just as if it had been a common dunghill fowl he was taking to the market of Calcutta.

Karl and Caspar did not choose to waste time in telling the shikaree how near they had been to leaving him the sole and undisputed possessor of that detached dwelling and the grounds belonging to it. Hunger prompted them to defer the relation to a future time; and also to lend a hand in the culinary operations already initiated by Ossaroo. By their aid, therefore, a fire was set ablaze; and the peacock, not very cleanly plucked, was soon roasting in the flames – Fritz having already made short work with the giblets.

Chapter Thirty Two.

The ibex

Big as was the body of the peacock, there was not much of it left after that déjeuner aux doigts! Only the bones; and so clean picked were they, that had Fritz not already been made welcome to the giblets, he would have had but a scanty meal of it.

The savoury roast did a good deal towards restoring the spirits of the party; but they could not help dwelling upon the indifferent prospect they now had of procuring a fresh stock of provisions – so much changed were circumstances by their powder having been destroyed.

The bow and arrows of Ossaroo were still left, and other bows could be made, if that one was to get broken. Indeed, Caspar now determined on having one of his own; and practising archery under the tutelage of the shikaree, until he should be able to use that old-fashioned and universal weapon with deadly effect.

Old-fashioned we may well term it: since its existence dates far beyond the earliest times of historical record; and universal: for go where you will into the most remote corners of the earth, the bow is found in the hands of the savage, copied from no model, introduced from no external source, but evidently native to the country and the tribe, as if when man was first created the weapon had been put into his hands by the Creator himself!

Indeed, the occurrence of the bow – with its necessary adjunct, the arrow – among tribes of savages living widely apart, and who, to all appearance, could never have communicated the idea to one another – is one of the most curious circumstances in the history of mankind; and there is no other way of explaining it, than by the supposition that the propelling power which exists in the recoil of a tightly-stretched string must be one of the earliest phenomena that presents itself to the human mind; and that, therefore, in many parts of the world this idea has been an indigenous and original conception.

The bow and arrow is certainly one of the oldest weapons on the earth – as well as one of the most universally distributed. It is a subject that, in the hands of the skilled ethnologist, might become one of the most interesting chapters in the history of the human race.

I have said that after eating the peacock our adventurers were in better spirits; but for all that, they could not help feeling some little apprehension as to how their food was to be obtained for the future. Ossaroo’s skill had provided their breakfast; but how about their dinner? And after that their supper? Even should something turn up for the next meal, they might not be so fortunate in obtaining the next after that; and this precarious way of subsistence – living, as it were, from hand to mouth – would be a constant exposure of their lives to the chances of starvation.

As soon, therefore, as they had finished with the flesh of the peacock – and while Ossaroo, who continued eating longer than any of them, was still engaged in polishing off the “drumsticks” – the point of replenishing the larder became the subject of their conversation; and all agreed that to get up a stock of provisions had now become a matter of primary importance. They resolved, therefore, to devote themselves entirely to this business – using such means as were in their power for capturing game, and devising other means should these prove insufficient.

First and foremost, then, what were they to have for dinner? Was it to be fish, flesh, or fowl? They did not think of having all three: for in their situation they had no desire for a fashionable dinner. One course would be sufficient for them; and they would only be too thankful to have one course assured to them.

Whether they would choose to go fishing with Ossaroo’s net, and have fish for their dinner, or whether they would try for another peacock, or an argus pheasant, or a brace of Brahminy geese; or whether they would take to the woods and search for grander game, had not become a decided point; when an incident occurred that settled the question, as to what they were to have for dinner. Without any exertion on their part – without the wasting of a single shot, or the spending of an arrow, they were provided with meat; and in quantity sufficient, not only for that day’s dinner, but to ration them for a whole week, with odds and ends falling to the share of Fritz.

They had gone out of the hut again; and were seated, as oft before, on some large stones that lay upon the ground in front. It was a fine bright morning; and, although cold in the shade, the sun shining down upon them, reflected from the white snow on the mountains above, made it warm enough to be pleasant. For that reason, and because there was some smoke inside the hut, where they had cooked their breakfast, they had preferred eating it in the open air; and here also they were holding council as to their future proceedings.

While thus engaged, a sound fell upon their ears that bore some resemblance to the bleating of a goat. It appeared to come down from the sky above them; but they knew that it must be caused by some animal on the cliffs overhead.

On looking upwards, they beheld the animal; and if its voice had already appeared to them to be like that of a goat, the creature itself in its personal appearance, to a very great extent, carried out the resemblance.

To speak the truth, it was a goat; though not one of the common kind. It was an ibex.

Once more Karl had the advantage of his companions. His knowledge of natural history enabled him to identify the animal. At the first glance he pronounced it an ibex; although he had never seen a living ibex before. But the goat-like shape of the animal, its shaggy coat, and above all, the immense ringed horns curving regularly backward over its shoulders, were all characteristic points, which Karl was able to identify by a comparison with pictures he had seen in books, and stuffed skins he had examined in a museum.

Ossaroo said it was a goat – some kind of a wild goat, he supposed; but as Ossaroo had never before been so high up the mountains, and therefore never in the regions frequented by the ibex, he knew it not. His conjecture that it was a goat was founded on the general resemblance which it bore to a goat; and this Caspar had observed as well as Ossaroo.

They could see the creature from head to foot, standing in a majestic attitude on a prominent point of the cliff; but although it was in reality much larger than the common domestic goat, it was so distant from them as not to appear bigger than a kid. It was en profile, however, to their eyes; and against the blue sky they could trace the outlines of the animal with perfect distinctness, and note the grand sweeping curvature of its horns.

The first thought of Caspar was to lay hold of his gun with the idea of taking a shot at it; but both the others interposed to prevent this – pointing out the impossibility of hitting at such a distance. Although seemingly much nearer, the ibex was considerably more than a hundred yards from where they were seated: for the point of the precipice upon which it stood was quite four hundred feet above the level.

Caspar, reflecting upon this, was easily dissuaded from his design; and the next moment was wondering why he had been so near playing the fool as to throw away a shot – his penultimate one, too – at an animal placed full fifty yards beyond the carry of his gun!

Chapter Thirty Three.

Goats and sheep

As the ibex kept its ground, without showing any signs of retreating, or even moving a muscle of its body, they remained watching it. Not, however, in silence: for as the animal was standing as if to have its portrait painted, Karl, in words addressed to his two companions, but chiefly intended for the instruction of Caspar, proceeded to execute that very task.

“The ibex,” said he, “is an animal whose name has been long famous, and about which the closet naturalists have written a great deal of nonsense – as they have about almost every other animal on the earth. After all that has been said about it, it is simply a goat – a wild goat, it is true, but still only a goat – having all the habits, and very much of the appearance characteristic of the domestic animal of this name.

“Every one knows that the common goat exists in as many varieties as the countries it inhabits. Indeed, there are more kinds of goats than countries: for it is not uncommon to meet with three or four sorts within the boundaries of a single kingdom – as in Great Britain itself. These varieties differ almost as much from each other as the ‘breeds’ of dogs; and hence there has been much speculation among zoologists, as to what species of wild goat they have all originally sprung from.

“Now, it is my opinion,” continued the plant-hunter, “that the tame goats found among different nations of the earth have not all descended from the same stock; but are the progeny of more than one wild species – just as the domesticated breeds of sheep have sprung from several species of wild sheep; though many zoologists deny this very plain fact.”

“There are different species of wild goats, then?” said Caspar, interrogatively.

“There are,” replied the plant-hunter, “though they are not very numerous – perhaps in all there may be about a dozen. As yet there are not so many known to zoologists – that is, not a dozen that have been identified and described as distinct species; but no doubt when the central countries, both of Asia and Africa – with their grand chains of mountains – have been explored by scientific naturalists, at least that number will be found to exist.

“The speculating systematists – who decide about genera and species, by some slight protuberance upon a tooth – have already created a wonderful confusion in the family of the goats. Not contented with viewing them all as belonging to a single genus, they have divided them into five genera – though to most of the five they ascribe only one species! – thus uselessly multiplying names, and rendering the study of the subject more complicated and difficult.

“There can be no doubt that the goats, both wild and tame – including the ibex, which is a true wild goat – form of themselves a separate family in the animal kingdom, easily distinguishable from sheep, deer, antelopes, or oxen. The wild goats often bear a very close resemblance to certain species of wild sheep; and the two are not to be distinguished from each other, by the goats being covered with hair and the sheep with wool – as is generally the case with tame breeds. On the contrary, both sheep and goats in a wild state have hairy coats – the sheep as much as the goats; and in many instances the hair of both is quite as short as that of antelopes or deer. Even where there are almost no external marks to distinguish wild goats from certain kinds of wild sheep, there are found moral characteristics which serve as guides to the genus. The goat is bolder, and of a fiercer nature; and its other habits, even in the wild state, differ essentially from those of the wild sheep.

“The ibex which we see above us,” continued Karl, looking up to the quadruped upon the cliff, “is neither more nor less than a wild goat. It is not the only species of wild goat inhabiting the Himalayas; for there is the ‘tahir,’ a stronger and larger animal than it; and it is believed that when these great mountains have been thoroughly ransacked (Karl here smiled at the very unscientific word he had made use of), there will turn up one or two additional species.

“It is not the only species of ibex neither,” continued he, “for there is one found in the European Alps, known by the name of ‘steinboc;’ another, in the Pyrenees, called the ‘tur;’ a third, in the Caucasus, the ‘zac;’ and one or two others in the mountains of Africa.

“With regard to the animal now before, or rather above us,” continued Karl, “it differs very little from others of the same family; and as both its appearance and habits have been very ably described by a noted sportsman, who was also an accomplished naturalist, I cannot do better than quote his description: since it gives almost every detail that is yet authentically known of the Himalayan ibex.