The Cliff Climbers

Beyond a doubt the bearcoot was in a bad fix; and, although it was soon relieved from its tether of poshm, it was only to find itself more securely tied by a stronger string taken out of the pocket of Ossaroo.

The other bearcoot having followed close after, seemed determined upon rescuing its mate out of the hands of its captors; and uttering loud screams, it flew, first at one, then at another of them – with its long pointed talons menacing each of them in turn.

As all of them had weapons in their hands, they succeeded in keeping the angry bird at bay, but it might not have fared so well with Fritz – who in turn became the object of its furious attack, and who had no weapon but his teeth.

These would scarce have been sufficient protection against the talons of an eagle; and Fritz would very likely have lost one of his eyes, or perhaps both of them, had it not been for an arrow springing from the bow of the shikaree; which, transfixing the great bird right through the gizzard, brought it down with a “flop” upon the surface of the earth.

It was not killed outright by the arrow; and the dog, on seeing it bite the dust, would fain have “jumped” it. But perceiving the strong curving beak and the sharp talons extended towards him, Fritz was easily persuaded to remain at a prudent distance, and leave the shikaree to make a finish of the bearcoot with his long boar-spear.

Chapter Thirty Six.

A hope built upon the bearcoot

In this unexpected supply of food – which might be said almost literally to have descended from heaven – Karl could not help recognising the hand of Providence, and pointing it out to his companions. Even the less reflecting mind of Caspar, and the half-heathen heart of the Hindoo, were impressed with a belief that some other agency than mere chance had befriended them; and they were only too willing to join with Karl in a prayerful expression of their gratitude to that Being who, although unseen, was with them even in that lone valley.

For a time they stood contemplating with curiosity, not only the two ibex, but also the eagles – interesting on account of the knowledge that all four animals had but lately been roaming freely beyond the boundaries of that mountain prison – and had just arrived, as it were, from the outside world, with which they themselves so eagerly longed to hold communication. What would they not have given to have been each provided with a pair of wings like that bearcoot – the one that still lived? Furnished in that fashion, they would soon have sought escape from the valley – to them a valley of tears – and from the snowy mountains that surrounded it.

While reflecting thus, a thought shaped itself in the mind of the philosophic Karl, which caused his face to brighten up a little. Only a little: for the idea which had occurred to him was not one of the brightest. There was something in it, however; and, as the drowning man will clutch even at straws, Karl caught at a singular conception, and after examining it a while, communicated it to the others.

It was the bearcoot that had brought forth this conception. The bird was a true eagle, strong of wing and muscle like all of his tribe, and one of the strongest of the genus. Like an arrow, he could fly straight up towards the sky. In a few minutes – ay, in a few seconds – he could easily shoot up to the summits of the snowy mountains that towered above them.

“What is to hinder him?” asked Karl, pointing to the bird, “to carry – ”

“To carry what?” said Caspar, interrupting the interrogation of his brother, who spoke in a hesitating and doubtful manner. “Not us, Karl?” continued he, with a slight touch of jocularity in his manner – “you don’t mean that, I suppose?”

“Not us,” gravely repeated Karl, “but a rope that may carry us.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Caspar, a gleam of joy overspreading his face as he spoke. “There’s something in that.”

Ossaroo, equally interested in the dialogue, at the same moment gave utterance to a joyous ejaculation.

“What do you think of it, shikaree?” inquired Karl, speaking in a serious tone.

The reply of Ossaroo did not bespeak any very sanguine hope on his part. Still he was ready to counsel a trial of the scheme. They could try it without any great trouble. It would only need to spin some more rope from the hemp – of which they had plenty – attach it to the leg of the bearcoot, and give the bird its freedom. There was no question as to the direction the eagle would take. He had already had enough of the valley; and would no doubt make to get out of it at the very first flight he should be permitted to make.

The scheme superficially considered appeared plausible enough; but as its details were subjected to a more rigorous examination, two grand difficulties presented themselves – so grand that they almost obliterated the hope, so suddenly, and with too much facility, conceived.

The first of these difficulties was, that the bearcoot, notwithstanding his great strength of wing, might not be able to carry up a rope, which would be strong enough to carry one of themselves. A cord he might easily take to the top of the cliff, or even far beyond; but a mere cord, or even a very slender rope, would be of no use. It would need one strong enough to support the body of a man – and that, too, while engaged in the violent exertion of climbing. The rope would require to be of great length – two hundred yards or more; and every yard would add to the weight the eagle would be required to carry up.

It is not to be supposed that they intended to “swarm” up this rope hand by hand. For the height of a dozen yards or so, any of them could have accomplished that. But there would be a hundred and fifty yards of “swarming” to be done before they could set foot upon the top of the cliff; and the smartest sailor that ever crawled up a main-stay – even Sinbad himself – could not have done half the distance. They had foreseen this difficulty from the very first; and the ingenuity of Karl had at once provided a remedy for it – as will be seen in the sequel.

The second question that presented itself was: – admitting that the bearcoot might bear up a rope stout enough for the purpose, whether there would be any possibility of getting this rope stayed at the top?

Of course, they could do nothing of themselves; and that point would be a matter of mere chance. There was a chance – all acknowledged that. The bird, in fluttering over the mountain to make its escape, might entangle the rope around a rock, or some sharp angle of the frozen snow. There was a chance, which could be determined by trying, and only by trying; and there were certain probabilities in favour of success.

The first difficulty – that relating to the strength and weight of the rope – admitted of rational discussion and calculation. There were data to go upon, and others that might be decided conjecturally, yet sufficiently near the truth for all preliminary purposes. They could tell pretty nearly what stoutness of rope it would take to hang any one of them; and this would be strong enough to carry them up the cliff. The strength of the eagle might also be presumed pretty nearly; and there was no doubt but that the bearcoot would do his very best to get out of the valley. After the rough handling he had already experienced, he would not require any further stimulus to call forth his very utmost exertions.

On discussing the subject in its different bearings, it soon became evident to all, that the matter of supreme importance would be the making of the rope. Could this be manufactured of sufficient fineness not to overburden the bearcoot, and yet be strong enough to sustain the weight of a man, the first difficulty would be got over. The rope therefore should be made with the greatest care. Every fibre of it should be of the best quality of hemp – every strand twisted with a perfect uniformity of thickness – every plait manipulated with an exact accuracy.

Ossaroo was the man to make such a cord. He could spin it with as much evenness as a Manchester mill. There would be no danger that in a rope of Ossaroo’s making the most critical eye could detect either fault or flaw.

It was finally determined on that the rope should be spun – Ossaroo acting as director, the others becoming his attendants rather than his assistants.

Before proceeding to work, however, it was deemed prudent to secure against a hungry day by curing the flesh of the brace of ibex. The dead bearcoot was to be eaten while fresh, and needed no curing.

And so indeed it was eaten – the bird of Jove furnishing them with a dinner, as that of Juno had given them a breakfast!

Chapter Thirty Seven.

The log on the leg

As soon as they had hung the ibex-meat upon the curing strings, and pegged out the two skins for drying, they turned their attention to the making of the rope by which they were to be pulled out of their prison. By good fortune they had a large stock of hemp on hand all ready for twisting. It was a store that had been saved up by Ossaroo – at the time when he had fabricated his fish-net; and as it had been kept in a little dry grotto of the cliff, it was still in excellent preservation. They had also on hand a very long rope, though, unfortunately, not long enough for their present purpose. It was the same which they had used in projecting their tree-bridge across the crevasse; and which they had long ago unrove from its pulleys, and brought home to the hut. This rope was the exact thickness they would require: for anything of a more slender gauge would scarcely be sufficient to support the weight of a man’s body; and considering the fearful risk they would have to run, while hanging by it against the face of such a cliff, it was necessary to keep on the safe side as regarded the strength of the rope. They could have made it of ample thickness and strength, so as to secure against the accident of its breaking. But then, on the opposite hand, arose the difficulty as to the strength of the eagle’s wing. Should the rope prove too heavy for the bearcoot to carry over the top of the cliff, then all their labour would be in vain.

“Why not ascertain this fact before making the rope?”

This was a suggestion of Karl himself.

“But how are we to do it?” was the rejoinder of Caspar.

“I think we can manage the matter,” said the botanist, apparently busying his brain with some profound calculation.

“I can’t think of a way myself,” replied Caspar, looking inquiringly at his brother.

“I fancy I can,” said Karl. “What is to hinder us to ascertain the weight of the rope before making it, and also decide as to whether the bird can carry so much?”

“But how are you to weigh the rope until it is made? You know it’s the trouble of making it we wish to avoid – that is, should it prove useless afterwards.”

“Oh! as for that,” rejoined Karl, “it is not necessary to have it finished to find out what weight it would be. We know pretty near the length that will be needed, and by weighing a piece of that already in our hands, we can calculate for any given length.”

“You forget, brother Karl, that we have no means of weighing, even the smallest piece. We have neither beam, scales, nor weights.”

“Pooh!” replied Karl, with that tone of confidence imparted by superior knowledge. “There’s no difficulty in obtaining all these. Any piece of straight stick becomes a beam, when properly balanced; and as for scales, they can be had as readily as a beam.”

“But the weights?” interrupted Caspar. “What about them? Your beam and scales would be useless, I apprehend, without proper weights? I think we should be ‘stumped’ for the want of the pounds and ounces.”

“I am surprised, Caspar, you should be so unreflecting, and allow your ingenuity to be so easily discouraged and thwarted. I believe I could make a set of weights under any circumstances in which you might place me – giving me only the raw material, such as a piece of timber and plenty of stones.”

“But how, brother? Pray, tell us!”

“Why, in the first place, I know the weight of my own body.”

“Granted. But that is only one weight; how are you to get the denominations – the pounds and ounces?”

“On the beam I should construct I would balance my body against a lot of stones. I should then divide the stones into two lots, and balance these against one another. I should thus get the half weight of my body – a known quantity, you will recollect. By again equally dividing one of the lots I should find a standard of smaller dimensions; and so on, till I had got a weight as small as might be needed. By this process I can find a pound, an ounce, or any amount required.”

“Very true, brother,” replied Caspar, “and very ingenious of you. No doubt your plan would do – but for one little circumstance, which you seem to have overlooked.”

“What is that?”