The joy, which all felt at the miraculous escape of Ossaroo, more than
compensated for their chagrin at the circumstance of the kite having
returned to them: more especially, as they believed that the accident
was not without remedy. It might be attributed to the wind: which no
doubt had lifted the kite from where it lay, detaching it from the rock,
or whatever other object that had for the time entangled it.
They doubted not, but that they might again succeed in sending it up,
and getting it fast as before; and this confidence hindered them from
grieving over the unfortunate occurrence, as they might otherwise have
done.
As the wind on that day was in the wrong quarter for flying a kite
towards the cliff, they determined to postpone the attempt, till a more
favourable opportunity; and, in order that their kite should not be in
danger of getting spoiled by the rain, they once more shouldered, and
carried it back, rope and all, to the shelter of the hut.
Nearly a week elapsed, before there was a breeze that blew in their
favour; but during this interval, they had not been altogether
unemployed. Still uncertain of the length of time they might be
detained in the valley, they had passed almost every hour of the
daylight in increasing their stock of provisions--so as not to encroach
upon the cured venison of the ibex, of which a considerable quantity was
still to the good.
Their guns were no longer used for procuring food. The last loads still
remained in the barrels; and were not to be fired off--until every other
means of capturing game should fail them.
Indeed, they were now so confident of being able to get out of their
prison, that at times they almost fancied themselves already on their
way down the mountains; and talked of keeping their guns loaded, against
any danger from large animals they might encounter on their homeward
journey. For procuring food they knew that firearms were not necessary.
Ossaroo's bow was sufficient weapon for that. Often might it be heard
twanging among the trees; and as often did the shikaree's arrow pierce
the breast of some fine bird--a peacock, or argus pheasant, or one of
the beautiful Brahminy geese that frequented the waters of the lake.
Ossaroo's nets and lines, too, were not without their use. Fish were
caught of various kinds, and excellent quality; and there was one sort
in particular, should all else fail, that promised to furnish them with
an inexhaustible supply. This was a large species of eel, in which the
lake abounded, to such an extent, that it was only necessary to cast in
a hook, with a worm upon it, and an eel of nearly six feet in length
would be instantly landed.
As they did not always relish to dine upon eels, but little of their
time was spent in procuring them. For all that, they were gratified on
discovering the abundance of these slippery creatures--knowing that,
should other resources fail, they would find in them a staple article of
wholesome food, that could never become scarce, no matter how much they
should eat of it.
A favourable wind at length came on to blow; and the kite was once more
shouldered, and carried to the same place as before. Just in the same
way did they proceed to fly it; and in the same style it again rose
soaring above the cliff; and--the cord having been suddenly slacked--
sank to rest upon the slope of the mountain.
So far were they once more successful; but alas! it proved to be just so
far and no farther.
Pulling upon the rope, to ascertain whether their anchor had "bit," they
were chagrined to receive an answer in the negative. The cord came back
to them with scarce any resistance; or only such, as was caused by
friction over the edge of the cliff, and by the drag of the kite itself
along the snowy surface.
Hand over hand, they drew it back: foot by foot, and yard by yard, it
came yieldingly towards them--until they saw the broad curving breast of
the pseudo-bird projecting over the parapet edge of the precipice!
Once more was it launched out into the air; once more was rope given it,
till it had ascended to the full length of its tether; and once more was
it allowed to alight.
Again the pull downward and inward--again the cord came freely to hand--
and again was the rounded bow seen upon the brow of the precipice, and
outlined against the blue sky above; not like the beautiful bow of the
iris--a thing of promise--but one of disappointment and chagrin.
Again the flight--again the failure--again and again; until the patience
of the operators--to say nothing of their strength--was well nigh
exhausted.
But it was no mere play for the sake of pastime. They were not flying
that kite for their amusement; nor yet for the purpose of making some
scientific experiment. They were flying it as a means of obtaining
their personal liberty; and they were all of them interested in the
success or failure of the attempt--almost as much as if their lives
rested on the issue.
However tried their strength, or worn out their patience, it would not
do to give up; and therefore--although at each unsuccessful effort, with
hopes constantly becoming diminished--they continued their exertions.
For more than a score of times they had sent up the kite, and as often
dragged it back to the brow of the cliff; not always at the same point:
for they had themselves changed their ground, and tried the flight in
different places.
In all cases, the result was the same. The bird refused to take hold
with its claws--either on rocks, or blocks of ice, or banks of frozen
snow--all of which lay scatter over the slope of the mountain.
Considering that it had caught hold on the very first trial, so many
failures were regarded by our adventurers with some surprise. Had it
never held, there would have been no cause for this; and after so many
attempts, they would have been the more inclined to yield up their plan,
deeming it impracticable. But the fact of their first success sustained
them in the hope that success might again be obtained; and, in this
belief, they were encouraged to "keep on trying."
Half a dozen additional flights were made, but fortune still declining
to favour them, they desisted from their efforts, leaving the paper-bird
with its breast protruding over the cliff: as if perched there in
preparation for a further flight.
By this time the kite had become sadly damaged--its _plumage_ having
received rough usage by constant trailing over the rocks and sharp
angles of ice. While up in the air, daylight could be seen shining
through it in several places; and it no longer exhibited that majesty of
flight that had originally characterised it. It was evident that
repairs would soon be needed; and to discuss this question, as also to
consider the propriety of proceeding to make trial at some other place,
our adventurers, for a time, discontinued their efforts.
All three were standing together, but at several paces distant from the
end of the rope; which they had for the moment abandoned, and which lay
negligently along the ground.
They had not taken the slightest precaution to secure it: for it had not
occurred to them that there was any risk in leaving it loose.
It was only when too late, that they perceived the mistake they had
committed--only when they saw the cord suddenly jerked up from the
ground, as if some invisible hand was lifting it aloft into the sky!
All three rushed towards it at the same instant. They were too late.
Already the end of the rope was dangling at such a height above their
heads, that even the tallest of them could not touch it with the tips of
his fingers.
Ossaroo leaped high into the air in an endeavour to clutch the string.
Caspar ran to procure a pole which lay near, in hopes of retaining it in
that way: while Karl ran up the ladder that was resting against the
cliff, near which the rope was yet trailing.
The efforts of all three were alike vain. For a second or two, the end
of the cord hung oscillating above their heads--just sufficiently out of
reach to tantalise them; and then, as if the invisible hand above had
given it another gigantic jerk, it was drawn rapidly and vertically
upward, till it finally disappeared over the crest of the cliff!