The Cliff Climbers

“Are your data quite correct?” naïvely inquired Caspar.

“My data!”

“Yes – the original standard from which you propose to start, and on which you would base your calculations. I mean the weight of your body. Do you know that?”

“Certainly,” said Karl; “I am just 140 pounds weight – to an ounce.”

“Ah, brother,” replied Caspar, with a shake of the head, expressive of doubt, “you were 140 pounds in London – I know that myself – and so was I nearly as much; but you forget that the fret and worry of this miserable existence has reduced both of us. Indeed, dear brother, I can see that you are much thinner since we set out from Calcutta; and no doubt you can perceive the like change in me. Is it not so?”

Karl was forced to give an affirmative reply to the question, at the same time that he acknowledged the truth of his brother’s statement. His data were not correct. The weight of his body – which, not being a constant quantity, is at all times an unsafe standard – would not serve in the present instance. The calculation they desired to make was of too important a character to be based upon such an untrustworthy foundation. Karl perceived this plainly enough; but it did not discourage him from prosecuting his purpose to make the attempt he had proposed.

“Well, brother!” said he, looking smilingly towards the latter, and apparently rather pleased at Caspar’s acuteness; “I acknowledge you have had the better of the argument this time; but that’s no reason why I should give up my plan. There are many other ways of ascertaining the weight of an object; and no doubt if I were to reflect a little I could hit upon one; but as luck has it, we need not trouble ourselves further about that matter. If I mistake not, we have a standard of weight in our possession, that is just the thing itself.”

“What standard?” demanded Caspar.

“One of the leaden bullets of your own gun. They are ounce bullets, I’ve heard you say?”

“They are exactly sixteen to the pound, and therefore each of them an ounce. You are right, Karl, that is a standard. Certainly it will do.”

The subject required no further sifting; and without delay they proceeded to ascertain the weight of two hundred yards of rope. A balance was soon constructed and adjusted, as nicely as if they had meant to put gold in the scale. Twenty yards of the rope already in hand was set against stones – whose weight they had already determined by reduplicating a number of bullets – and its quantity ascertained in pounds and ounces. Eight times that gave one hundred and sixty yards – the probable amount of cord they should require.

This being determined upon, the next thing was to find out whether the eagle could carry such a burden into the sky. Of course, the bird would not have the whole of it to carry at first, as part would rest upon the ground; but should it succeed in reaching the top of the cliff – even at the lowest part – there would then be the weight of at least one hundred yards upon its leg; and if it ascended still higher, a greater amount in proportion.

It was natural to suppose that the bearcoot in going out would choose the lowest part of the precipice – especially when feeling his flight impeded by the strange attachment upon his leg; and if this conjecture should prove correct, there would be all the less weight to be sustained. But, indeed, by the cord itself they could guide the bearcoot to the lowest part – since by holding it in their hands, they could hinder him taking flight in any other direction.

Considering all these circumstances, and rather cheered by the many points that appeared to be in their favour, they proceeded to make trial of the eagle’s strength.

It would not take long to decide; but conscious of the great importance of the result, they set about it with due deliberation.

A log of wood was procured, and chopped down, till it was exactly the weight of the rope to be used. To this the piece of twenty yards – already employed for a different purpose – was attached at one end – the other being tightly knotted around the shank of the eagle.

When all was ready, the bird was stripped of his other fastenings; and then all retired to a distance to give him space for the free use of his wings.

Fancying himself no longer under restraint, the bearcoot sprang up from the rock on which he had been placed; and, spreading his broad wings, rose almost vertically into the air.

For the first twenty yards he mounted with a vigorous velocity; and the hopes of the spectators found utterance in joyful ejaculations.

Alas! these hopes were short-lived, ending almost on the instant of their conception. The rope, carried to its full length, became suddenly taut – jerking the eagle several feet back towards the earth. At the same time the log was lifted only a few inches from the ground. The bird fluttered a moment, taken aback by this unexpected interruption; and, after recovering its equilibrium, again essayed a second flight towards the sky.

Once more the rope tightened – as before raising the log but very little from the ground – while the eagle, as if this time expecting the pluck, suffered less derangement of its flight than on the former occasion. For all that, it was borne back, until its anchor “touched bottom.” Then after making another upward effort, with the like result, it appeared to become convinced of its inability to rise vertically, and directed its flight in a horizontal line along the cliffs. The log was jerked over the ground, bounding from point to point, occasionally swinging in the air, but only for a few seconds at a time.

At length the conviction forced itself upon the minds of the spectators – as it seemed also to have done upon that of the performer – that to reach the top of the cliff – with a cord upon its leg, equal in weight to that log – was more than a bearcoot could accomplish.

In short, the plan had proved a failure; and, no longer hoping for success, our adventurers turned their disappointed looks upon each other – leaving the eagle free to drag his wooden anchor whithersoever he might wish.

Chapter Thirty Eight.

Further experiments

The usual silence which succeeds a disappointment was for some time preserved by the three individuals who had been spectators of the unsuccessful attempt of the eagle. Caspar seemed less cast down than the others; but why it was so, neither of them thought of asking him.

It was not a silence of very long duration, nor was the chagrin that had caused it of much longer continuance. Both were evanescent as the summer cloud that for a moment darkens the sky, and then glides off – leaving it bright and serene as ever.

It was to Caspar the party was indebted for this happy change of feeling. An idea had occurred to the young hunter – or rather a new scheme – which was at once communicated to his companions.

Strictly speaking, Caspar’s scheme could not be termed a new one. It was only supplementary to that already set before them by Karl; and the bearcoot, as before, was to be the chief actor in it.

While calculating the length of rope it would take to reach to the top of the cliff, Caspar had already bethought him of a way by which it might be shortened – in other words, how it might be arranged, that a shorter rope would suffice. He had for some time carried this idea in his mind; but had declined communicating it, to the others, until after witnessing the test of the eagle’s strength. Now that the bearcoot had been “weighed and found wanting,” you might suppose that the creature would be no longer cared for – excepting to furnish them with a meal. This was the reflection of Karl and Ossaroo; but Caspar thought differently. He was impressed with a belief, that the bird might still do them a service – the very one which he had undertaken so unsuccessfully.

Caspar reflected, and very correctly: that it was the extra weight that had hindered the eagle from ascending. It was not so much beyond his strength neither. Perhaps had it been only half as heavy, or even a little more, he might have succeeded in carrying it over the cliff.

What if the weight should be reduced?

To make the rope more slender did not enter into Caspar’s calculations. He knew this could not be done: since it was a point already discussed and decided upon.

But how if the rope were to be shorter, than that which had been theoretically considered? How if it were to be only fifty yards, instead of one hundred and fifty? Of course, then the eagle might fly with it, to whatever height its length would allow.

Caspar felt satisfied of this fact; nor did either of the others question its truth – but what then?

“What,” inquired Karl, “would be the use of a rope of fifty yards, though the eagle might carry it up to the moon? Even at the lowest part of the cliffs – should the bearcoot take one end over, the other would be fifty yards above our heads?”

“Not a yard, brother – not a foot. The other end would be in our hands – in our hands, I tell you.”

“Well, Caspar,” calmly rejoined the philosopher, “you appear to be confident enough; though I can’t guess what you are driving at. You know this hideous precipice is at no point less than a hundred yards in sheer height?”

“I do,” replied Caspar, still speaking in the same tone of confidence; “but a rope of only fifty – ay, of not more than half that length – may be held in our hands, while the other end is over the top of the cliff.”

Karl looked perplexed; but the shikaree, on this occasion quicker of perception than the philosopher, catching at Caspar’s meaning, cried out: —

“Ha, ha! young sahib meanee from top ob da ladder! Dat meanee he.”

“Exactly so,” said Caspar; “you’ve guessed right, Ossy. I mean just that very thing.”

“Oh! then, indeed,” said Karl, in a drawling tone, at the same time lapsing into a reflective silence.

“Perhaps you are right, brother,” he added, after a pause. “At all events, it will be easy to try. If your scheme succeed, we shall not require to make any more cord. What we have will be sufficient. Let us make trial at once!”

“Where is the bearcoot?” asked Caspar, looking around to discover the bird.

“Yonner be he, young sahib,” answered Ossaroo, pointing towards the precipice; “yonner sitee he – ober da rock.”

The eagle was perceived, perched, or rather crouching, on a low ledge of the cliff, – upon which it had dropped down after its unsuccessful attempt at flight. It looked crestfallen, and as if it would suffer itself to be caught by the hand. But as Ossaroo approached it with this intention, the bird seemed to fancy itself free, and once more rose, with a bold swoop, into the air.

It was only to feel the check-string tighten afresh upon his leg. It came fluttering down again, first drawn back by the weight of the log, and afterwards by the strong arm of the shikaree.

The log was now removed; and the whole rope they had on hand – a length of rather more than fifty yards – was knotted in its place.

The bearcoot was again set free – Ossaroo taking care to keep the leash well in hand; and now the beautiful bird of Jove rose into the air, as if not the summit of the cliff, but the proud peak of Chumulari, was to be the limit of its flight.