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!