The kite having been thus prepared, they only waited for an opportunity
of flying it--for a day when the wind should be sufficiently strong, and
blowing from the right quarter--that is, towards that portion of the
precipice over which it appeared best that the paper-bird should be
dispatched. This was the same place, where the ladders had been set,
and where they had unsuccessfully endeavoured to send up the bearcoot.
They had already ascended one of the isolated cairns of rock, that stood
within the valley nearly opposite this part of the cliff; and from its
top they had been able to get a view--though not a very good one--of a
portion of the sloping declivity of the mountain above. It appeared to
be covered with snow--here and there supporting huge masses of
something, either boulders of rock, or dark-coloured lumps of ice. The
eyes of our adventurers rested on these with the greatest interest: as
they had done upon a former occasion, when about to send the bearcoot
among them. Now they had conceived higher hopes than ever--founded upon
the presence of these masses. If they should succeed in flying the kite
into their midst, and there dropping it, it was not only possible, but
highly probable, that it might either get the rope warped around one of
them, or itself become caught between two, so as to hold fast. To
render this the more practicable, they had furnished its wings with
spurs--in other words, they had left the cross-piece of bamboo to extend
on each side about a foot beyond the edge of the paper; and near the end
of each extension, they had placed other pieces transversely, and lashed
them firmly--so that they might act as the flukes of an anchor.
They had spared neither pains nor ingenuity to ensure success. They had
done all, that man could do, to deserve it.
Fortune was so far favourable, as not to keep them long in suspense.
Only two or three days had passed, when one came, on which the wind blew
in their favour--exactly as they wanted it. It was a stiff breeze,
steady in the right direction, and strong enough to carry up the largest
of paper kites.
Proceeding to the place, where the ladders were set, with the huge bird
carried in the arms of Ossaroo, they made ready for its flight. Karl
was to start the kite, and guide its ascent from the ground; while
Caspar and the shikaree were to run out with the rope: as it would
require the united strength of both to hold such a broad-breasted bird
against the wind. They had taken the precaution to cut away the bushes
to a long distance backwards from the cliff, and so clear the track:
there was therefore nothing to impede them while paying out the string.
It was arranged that Karl should have direction of the movement, and
give out the signal for them to start.
It was a moment of vivid emotion, as each of he three placed himself in
the position assigned to him--Karl by the kite, with its backbone in one
hand, and its tail in the other--Ossaroo clutching the rope--and Caspar
by his side, holding the great coil in readiness for delivery.
Karl poised the creature upon the stump of its tail; and then, lifting
with all his strength--so as to raise it several feet from the ground--
he gave forth the signal at the highest pitch of his voice.
At the same instant, Caspar and the shikaree ran backward--tightening
the rope as they went; and like a vast vulture with outspread wings, the
bird soared silently upward into the air.
It rose with a regular majestic motion, soon overtopping the trees that
grew near, and still mounting on towards the summit of the cliff.
Karl cheered as he saw it ascend. The others were too busy in the
performance of their parts to find time for this expression of triumph;
and not until the kite had soared high into the heavens, and appeared
many yards above the brow of the beetling precipice, did Caspar and
Ossaroo respond to the cheering of Karl. Then both together gave vent
to their excited feelings in a long-continued hurrah!
"Let go now, Ossaroo!" cried Karl, shouting so as to be heard above the
wind. "You, Caspar, keep hold of the end of the cord."
Ossaroo, obedient to the order, suddenly slackened his hold--at the same
time springing towards Caspar, and prudently seizing the end along with
him.
The kite, thus released, like some huge bird that had received its
death-wound, turned head downwards towards the earth; and, after making
various sinuous evolutions through the air, flouting its long tail first
in one direction then in another--it was seen darting down towards the
acclivity of the mountain. At length, passing behind the summit of the
cliffs, it was no longer visible to the eyes of those who had aided it
in its lofty flight, and then left it helplessly to fall.
So far they had succeeded to the utmost of their expectations. The kite
had alighted, just where they wanted it.
But now arose the question--would it stay there? In other words, would
it be caught among the rocks, and hold fast?
If not, they would have to fly it again and again, until it should get
fastened above, or until the experiment should prove a failure.
Karl stepped forward to decide the point--the others looking on with an
eagerness of glance, that betrayed how deep was their interest in the
result.
Karl's hand trembled as he laid hold of the cord. At first he pulled
upon it in a gentle way--hand over hand--so as merely to take in the
slack.
At length it began to tighten, requiring greater strength to take it in:
as if the kite was still free, and dragging over the snow.
This produced anything but a pleasant anticipation; and as the rope came
to hand, foot after foot, and yard after yard, a shadow, that had stolen
over the countenances of all three, became sensibly darker.
Only for a short while did this shadow remain. It vanished, more
suddenly than it had arisen: when they saw the running cord become
abruptly checked, and then tighten as Karl continued to draw it in. He
pulled upon it, at first exerting only a part of his strength, as if
afraid that it might again come loose. After awhile, gaining
confidence, he pulled with all his power. It still held fast!
Ossaroo and Caspar now joined their strength to his; and all three
pulled together.
Hurrah! the kite would not come! The cord kept its place, stretching to
the bottom of the cliff, as taut as the main-stay of a ship!
Ejaculations of joy escaped from all three at the same instant of time:
and for some moments they stood, tightly clutching the rope, and holding
it firmly: as if in dread of its being dragged out of their grasp by
some hostile and invisible hand.
At length Karl suggested the propriety of making the cord secure, by
fastening it to some object. A large upright stone, close by the bottom
of the cliff, appeared to be the most proper thing; and to this they
determined upon tying it.
Still keeping it taut--lest by slackening it they might disturb the
anchor aloft--they moved hand over hand along the rope, until they had
got close to the bottom of the precipice. Then, while Karl and Caspar
still held on, Ossaroo gathered up the slack; and, turning it several
times round the stone, securely _belayed_ it.
Nothing more remained but to make the steps--which had been already
designed--adjust them in their places--climb up to the top of the
cliff--and be free as the mountain breeze, which would there be blowing
around them!
The thought of such a lucky deliverance filled them once more with
joyous imaginings; and they stood around the stone, to which the rope
had been attached--congratulating themselves, as if they had already
escaped.
They knew there would still be some time required to make the steps, and
fix them in their places; but, since they no longer doubted their
ability to accomplish the ascent, the interval of time might be passed
cheerfully enough; and, with this pleasant anticipation, they went back
to their workshop in the best of spirits, and cooked themselves a more
careful dinner than they had eaten since the discovery of the daphne
trees.