Long sat they in this attitude, all three, observing a profound silence.
The air was keenly cold, for it was now mid-winter, but none of them
seemed to feel the cold. The deep disappointment, the bitter chagrin
that filled their minds, hindered them from perceiving bodily pain; and
at that moment had an avalanche threatened to slide down upon them from
the snowy summit above, not one of the three would have much cared to
escape out of its way.
So tired had they become of their aerial prison--so terrified by the
prospect of its continuing for ever--or at least as long as they might
live--they could have contemplated even death without additional terror.
The straw, to which they had so long and so fondly clung, was snatched
from their grasp. Again were they drowning.
For nearly an hour sat they thus, moody and desponding. The
purple-coloured tints, that began to play over the surface of the
eternal snows above, admonished them that the sun was far down in the
heavens, and that night was approaching.
Karl was the first to become conscious of this--the first to break
silence.
"Oh, brothers!" said he, under the impress of their common misfortune
including Ossaroo in the fraternal appellation. "Come away! It is
useless to stay longer here. Let us go home!"
"Home!" repeated Caspar, with a melancholy smile. "Ah! Karl, I wish
you had not spoken the word. So sweet at other times, it now rings in
my ears like some unearthly echo. Home, indeed! Alas, dear brother! we
shall ne'er go home."
To this pathetic speech Karl made no reply. He could offer no word of
hope or consolation; and therefore remained silent. He had already
risen to his feet--the others following his example--and all three
walked moodily away from the spot, taking the most direct route towards
their rude dwelling, which now more than ever they had reason to regard
as their _home_.
On reaching the hut they found still another cause of inquietude. Their
stock of provisions, which had survived the destructive onset of the
elephant, had been economised with great care. But as they had been too
busy in making the ladders to waste time on any other species of
industry, nothing had been added to the larder--neither fish, flesh, nor
fowl. On the contrary, it had dwindled down, until upon that clay when
they issued forth to try their ladders against the cliff, they had left
behind them only a single piece of dried yak-beef--about enough to have
furnished them with a single meal.
Hungry after the day's fruitless exertion, they were contemplating a
supper upon it, and not without some degree of pleasant anticipation:
for nature under all circumstances will assert her rights, and the
cravings of appetite are not to be stifled even by the most anguished
suffering of the spirit.
As they drew nearer to the hut, but more especially when they came in
sight of it, and perceived its rude but hospitable doorway open to
receive them--as from the chill atmosphere through which they were
passing they beheld its sheltering roof of thatch, and thought of its
snug, cosy interior--as, keenly experiencing the pangs both of cold and
hunger, they beheld in fancy a bright faggot fire crackling upon the
hearth, and heard the yak-beef hissing and sputtering in the blaze,
their spirits began to return to their natural condition, and if not
actual joy, something that very much resembled cheerfulness might have
been observed in the demeanour of all.
It is ever thus with the mind of man, and perhaps fortunate that it is
so. The human soul finds its type in the sky--cloud and sunshine,
sunshine and cloud.
With our adventurers the dark cloud had for the moment passed; and a
gleam of light was once more shining upon their hearts.
It was not destined to shine long. A light had been struck, and a fire
kindled that soon blazed brightly. So far one desire had been
satisfied. They could warm themselves. But when they came to think of
gratifying an appetite of a far more craving character--when they
essayed to search for that piece of yak flesh that was to furnish forth
their supper--they found it not!
During their absence, the burglar had also been abroad. Their larder
had been assailed. The _hung_ beef was hanging there no longer.
Some wild animal--wolf, panther, or other predatory creature--had
entered by the open doorway,--left open in the excitement of that
hopeful departure--found open upon their return--but, like the door of
that oft-quoted stable, not worth shutting, since the steed had been
stolen.
Not a morsel, not a mouthful remained--either of yak-beef or food of any
other kind--and all three, Fritz making the fourth, had to go supperless
to sleep.