"this explains the high temperature of the valley, the rich luxuriant
vegetation, the presence of plants of the lower region; I thought that
there was some such cause. See, yonder grow magnolias! How very
interesting! I should not wonder if we meet with palms and bamboos!"
Just at that moment the attention of the party was called away from the
hot spring. A noble buck came bounding up until he was within twenty
yards of the spot, and then halting in his tracks, stood for some
moments gazing at the intruders.
There was no mistaking this creature for any other animal than a stag.
The vast antlers were characteristics that left no room to doubt of his
species. He was about the size of the European stag or red-deer, and
his branching horns were very similar. His colour, too, was reddish
grey with a white mark around the croup, and his form and proportion
were very like to those of the English stag. He was, in fact, the
Asiatic representative of this very species--known to naturalists as the
_Cervus Wallichii_.
At sight of the party around the spring, he exhibited symptoms more of
surprise than of fear. Perhaps they were the first creatures of the
kind his great large eyes had ever glanced upon. He knew not whether
they might prove friendly or hostile.
Simple creature! He was not to remain long in doubt as to that point.
The rifle was brought to bear upon him, and the next moment he was
prostrate upon the ground.
It was Karl who had fired, as Caspar with the double-barrel was standing
at some distance off. All three, however, ran forward to secure the
game, but, to their chagrin, the stag once more rose to his feet and
bounded off among the bushes, with Fritz following at his heels. They
could see that he went upon three legs, and that the fourth--one of the
hind ones--was broken and trailing upon the ground.
The hunters started after, in hopes of still securing the prize; but
after passing through the thicket they had a view of the buck still
bounding along close by the bottom of the cliffs, and as yet far ahead
of the hound. It was near the cliff where the animal had been wounded,
for the hot spring was close in to the rocks that bounded that side of
the valley.
The dog ran on after him, and the hunters followed as fast as they were
able. Karl and Ossaroo kept along the bottom of the cliff, while Caspar
remained out in the open valley, in order to intercept the game should
it turn outwards in the direction of the lake.
In this way they proceeded for more than half-a-mile before seeing
anything more of the stag. At length the loud baying of Fritz warned
them that he had overtaken the game, which was no doubt standing to bay.
This proved to be the case. Fritz was holding the buck at bay close to
the edge of a thicket; but the moment the hunters came in sight, the
stag again broke, dashed into the thicket, and disappeared as before.
Another half-mile was passed before they found the game again, and then
the dog had brought him to bay a second time; but just as before, when
the hunters were approaching, the stag made a rush into the bushes, and
again got off.
It was mortifying to lose such noble game after having been so sure of
it, and all determined to follow out the chase if it should last them
the whole day. Karl had another motive for continuing after the deer.
Karl was a person of tender and humane feelings. He saw that the ball
had broken the creature's thigh-bone, and he knew the wound would cause
its death in the end. He could not think of leaving it thus to die by
inches, and was anxious to put an end to its misery With this view as
well as for the purpose of obtaining the venison, he continued the
chase.
The stag gave them another long run, before it was again brought up; and
again, for the third time, it broke and made off.
They began to despair of being able to come up with it. All this while
the deer had kept along the base of the cliffs, and the hunters as they
ran after it could not help noticing the immense precipice that towered
above their heads. It rose to the height of hundreds of feet, in some
places with a slanting face, but generally almost as vertical as a wall.
The chase of the wounded stag, however, occupied too much their
attention to allow of their observing anything else very minutely; and
so they pressed on without halting anywhere--except for a moment or so
to gain breath. Six or seven times had they seen the wounded stag, and
six or seven times had Fritz brought him to bay, but Fritz for his pains
had only received several severe scores from the antlers of the enraged
animal.
The hunters at length approached the great gap in the cliff, through
which they had first entered the valley, but the chase was carried past
this point and continued on as before.
Once more the loud barking of the dog announced that the deer had come
to a stand; and once more the hunters hurried forward.
This time they saw the stag standing in a pool of water up to the
flanks. The ground gave Caspar an opportunity to approach within a few
yards without being observed by the game, and a discharge from the
double-barrel put an end to the chase.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
AN ALARMING DISCOVERY.
You will naturally suppose that this successful termination of the chase
gave great satisfaction to the hunters. It might have done so under
other circumstances, but just then their minds became occupied by
thoughts of a far different nature.
As they came up to the spot where the stag had fallen, and were
preparing to drag it from the pool, their eyes rested upon an object
which caused them to turn toward one another with looks of strange
significance. This object was no other than the hot spring--the place
where the chase had begun. Within less than a hundred yards of the spot
where the stag had received his first wound was he now lying dead! The
pool in fact was in the little rivulet that ran from the spring to the
lake.
I have said that the hunters on observing this exchanged significant
glances. One fact was evident to all of them--that they had got back to
the spot whence they started. A very little reasoning taught them
another fact--that in the pursuit of the stag they must have made the
full circuit of the valley. They had not turned back anywhere--they had
not crossed the valley--they had not even been in sight of the lake
during the whole chase. On the contrary, Karl with Ossaroo had kept
continually along the bottom of the cliffs, sometimes in the timber, and
at intervals passing across stretches of open ground.
What was there remarkable about all this? It only proved that the
valley was small, and of roundish form; and that in about an hour's time
any one might make the circuit of it. What was there in this discovery
that should cause the hunters to stand gazing upon one another with
troubled looks? Was it surprise at the stag having returned to die
where he had received his wound? Certainly there was something a little
singular about that, but so trifling a circumstance could not have
clouded the brows of the hunters. It was not surprise that was pictured
in their looks--more serious feelings were stirring within them. Their
glances were those of apprehension--the fear of some danger not fully
defined or certain. What danger?
The three stood, Ossaroo lightly grasping his bow, but not thinking of
the weapon; Karl holding his rifle with its butt resting on the ground,
and Caspar gazing interrogatively in the face of his brother.
For some moments not one of them spoke. Each guessed what the other was
thinking of. The stag lay untouched in the pool, his huge antlers alone
appearing above the surface of the water, while the dog stood baying on
the bank.
Karl at length broke silence. He spoke half in soliloquy, as if his
thoughts were busy with the subject.
"Yes, a precipice the whole way round. I saw no break--no signs of one.
Ravines there were, it is true, but all seemed to end in the same high
cliffs. You observed no outlet, Ossaroo?"
"No, Sahib; me fearee de valley shut up, no clear o' dis trap yet
Sahib."
Caspar offered no opinion. He had kept farther out from the cliffs, and
at times had been quite out of sight of them--the trees hiding their
tops from his view. He fully comprehended, however, the meaning of his
brother's observations.
"Then you think the precipice runs all around the valley?" he asked,
addressing the latter.
"I fear so, Caspar. I observed no outlet--neither has Ossaroo; and
although not specially looking for such a thing, I had my eyes open for
it; I had not forgotten our perilous situation of yesterday, and I
wished to assure myself. I looked up several gorges that ran out of the
valley, but the sides of all seemed to be precipitous. The chase, it is
true, kept me from examining them very closely; but it is now time to do
so. If there be no pass out of this valley, then are we indeed in
trouble. These cliffs are five hundred feet in height--they are
perfectly impassable by human foot. Come on! let us know the worst."
"Shall we not draw out the stag?" inquired Caspar, pointing to the game
that still lay under the water.
"No, leave him there; it will get no harm till our return: should my
fears prove just, we shall have time enough for that, and much else
beside. Come on!"
So saying Karl led the way toward the foot of the precipice, the others
following silently after.
Foot by foot, and yard by yard, did they examine the beetling front of
those high cliffs. They viewed them from their base, and then passing
outward scanned them to the very tops. There was no gorge or ravine
which they did not enter and fully reconnoitre. Many of these there
were, all of them resembling little bays of the ocean, their bottoms
being on the same level with the valley itself, and their sides formed
by the vertical wall of granite.
At some places the cliffs actually hung over. Now and then they came
upon piles of rock and scattered boulders--some of them of enormous
dimensions. There were single blocks full fifty feet in length,
breadth, and height; and there were also cairns, or collections of
rocks, piled up to four times that elevation, and standing at such a
distance from the base of the cliff, that it was evident they could not
have fallen from it into their present position. Ice, perhaps, was the
agent that had placed them where they lay.
None of the three were in any mood to speculate upon geological
phenomena at that moment. They passed on, continuing their examination.
They saw that the cliff was not all of equal height. It varied in this
respect, but its lowest escarpment was too high to be ascended. At the
lowest point it could not have been less than three hundred feet sheer,
while there were portions of it that rose to the stupendous height of
one thousand from the valley!
On went they along its base, carefully examining every yard. They had
gone over the same path with lighter feet and lighter hearts. This time
they were three hours in making the circuit; and at the end of these
three hours they stood in the gap by which they had entered, with the
full and painful conviction that that gap was the only outlet to this
mysterious valley--the only one that could be traversed by human foot!
The valley itself resembled the crater of some extinct volcano, whose
lava lake had burst through this gate-like gorge, leaving an empty basin
behind.
They did not go back through the glacier ravine. They had no hope of
escaping in that direction. That they knew already.
From the gap they saw the white vapour curling up over the spring. They
saw the remaining portion of the precipice that lay beyond. It was the
highest and most inaccessible of all.
All three sat down upon the rocks; and remained for some minutes silent
and in a state of mind bordering upon despair.
CHAPTER THIRTY.
PROSPECTS AND PRECAUTIONS.
Brave men do not easily yield to despair. Karl was brave. Caspar,
although but a mere boy, was as brave as a man. So was the shikarree
brave--that is, for one of his race. He would have thought light of any
ordinary peril--a combat with a tiger, or a gayal, or a bear; but, like
all his race, he was given to superstition, he now firmly believed that
some of his Hindoo gods dwelt in this valley, and that they were all to
be punished for intruding into the sacred abode. There was nothing
singular about his holding this belief. It was perfectly natural,--in
fact, it was only the belief of his religion and his race.
Notwithstanding his superstitious fears, he did not yield himself up to
destiny. On the contrary, he was ready to enter heart and soul into any
plan by which he and his companions might escape out of the territory of
Brahma, Vishnu, or Siva--whichsoever of these it belonged to.
It was in thinking over some plan that kept all three of them in
silence, and with such thoughts Ossaroo was as busy as the others.
Think as they would, no feasible or practicable idea could be got hold
of. There were five hundred feet of a cliff to be scaled. How was that
feat to be accomplished?
By making a ladder? The idea was absurd. No ladder in the world would
reach to the quarter of such a height. Ropes, even if they had had
them, could be in no way made available. These might aid in going
_down_ a precipice, but for going _up_ they would be perfectly useless.
The thought even crossed their minds of cutting notches in the cliff,
and ascending by that means! This might appear to be practicable, and
viewing the matter from a distance it certainly does seem so. But had
you been placed in the position of our travellers,--seated as they were
in front of that frowning wall of granite,--and told that you must climb
it by notches cut in the iron rock by your own hand, you would have
turned from the task in despair.
So did they; at least the idea passed away from their thoughts almost in
the same moment in which it had been conceived.
For hours they sat pondering over the affair. What would they not have
given for wings; wings to carry them over the walls of that terrible
prison?
All their speculations ended without result; and at length rising to
their feet, they set off with gloomy thoughts toward the spot where they
had already encamped.
As if to render their situation more terrible, some wild beasts,--wolves
they supposed,--had visited the encampment during their absence, and had
carried off every morsel of the jerked meat. This was a painful
discovery, for now more than ever should they require such provision.
The stag still remained to them. Surely it was not also carried off?
and to assure themselves they hurried to the pool, which was at no great
distance. They were gratified at finding the deer in the pool where it
had been left; the water, perhaps, having protected it from ravenous
beasts.
As their former camp ground had not been well chosen, they dragged the
carcass of the deer up to the hot spring; that being a better situation.
There the animal was skinned, a fire kindled, and after they had dined
upon fresh venison-steaks, the rest of the meat Ossaroo prepared for
curing,--just as he had done that of the yak,--but in this case he took
the precaution to hang it out of reach of all four-footed marauders.
So careful were they of the flesh of the deer, that even the bones were
safely stowed away, and Fritz had to make his supper upon the offal.
Notwithstanding their terrible situation, Karl had not abandoned one of
the national characteristics of his countryman,--prudence. He foresaw a
long stay in this singular valley. How long he did not think of asking
himself; perhaps for life. He anticipated the straits in which they
might soon be placed; food even might fail them; and on this account
every morsel was to be kept from waste.
Around their night camp-fire they talked of the prospects of obtaining
food; of the animals they supposed might exist in the valley; of their
numbers and kinds,--they had observed several kinds; of the birds upon
the lake and among the trees; of the fruits and berries; of the roots
that might be in the ground; in short, of every thing that might be
found there from which they could draw sustenance.
They examined their stock of ammunition. This exceeded even their most
sanguine hopes. Both Caspar's large powder-horn and that of his brother
were nearly full. They had used their guns but little since last
filling their horns. They had also a good store of shot and bullets;
though these things were less essential, and in case of their running
short of them they knew of many substitutes, but gunpowder is the _sine
qua non_ of the hunter.
Even had their guns failed them, there was still the unerring bow of
Ossaroo, and it was independent of either powder or lead. A thin reed,
or the slender branch of a tree, were nearly all that Ossaroo required
to make as deadly a shaft as need be hurled.
They were without anxiety, on the score of being able to kill such
animals as the place afforded. Even had they been without arrows, they
felt confident that in such a circumscribed space they would have been
able to circumvent and capture the game. They had no uneasiness about
any four-footed creature making its escape from the valley any more than
themselves. There could be no other outlet than that by which they had
entered. By the ravine only could the four-footed denizens of the place
have gone out and in; and on the glacier they had observed a beaten path
made by the tracks of animals, before the snow had fallen. Likely
enough the pass was well-known to many kinds, and likely also there were
others that stayed continually in the valley, and there brought forth
their young. Indeed, it would have been difficult for a wild animal to
have found a more desirable home.
The hope of the hunters was that many animals might have held this very
opinion, and from what they had already observed, they had reason to
think so.
Of course they had not yet abandoned the hope of being able to find some
way of escape from their singular prison. No, it was too early for
that. Had they arrived at such a conviction, they would have been in
poor heart indeed, and in no mood for conversing as they did. The birds
and the quadrupeds, and the fruits and roots, would have had but little
interest for them with such a despairing idea as that in their minds.
They still hoped, though scarce knowing why; and in this uncertainty
they went to rest with the resolve to give the cliffs a fresh
examination on the morrow.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
MEASURING THE CREVASSE.
Again, on the morrow, every foot of the precipitous bluffs was minutely
scanned and examined. The circuit of the valley was made as before.
Even trees were climbed in order the better to view the face of the
cliffs that soared far above their tops. The result was a full
conviction, that to scale the precipice at any point was an utter
impossibility.
Until fully convinced of this, they had not thought of going back
through the gap that led to the glacier; but now that all hopes of
succeeding elsewhere had vanished from their minds, they proceeded in
that direction.
They did not walk towards it with the light brisk step of men who had
hopes of success; but rather mechanically, as if yielding to a sort of
involuntary impulse. As yet they had not examined the ice-chasm very
minutely.
Awed by the terror of the glacier slide, they had retreated from the
spot in haste. One glance at the crevasse was all they had given; but
in that glance they had perceived the impossibility of crossing it. At
the time, however, they were not aware of the resources that were so
near. They were not aware that within less than five hundred yards of
the spot grew a forest of tall trees. Indeed, it was not until they had
fully reconnoitred the cliffs, and turned away from them in despair,
that such a train of reasoning occurred to tha mind of any of the three.
As they were entering the portals of that singular passage, the thought
seemed for the first time to have taken shape. Karl was the first to
give expression to it. Suddenly halting, he pointed back to the forest,
and said,--
"If we could bridge it!"
Neither of his companions asked him what he contemplated bridging. Both
were at that moment busy with the same train of thought. They knew it
was the crevasse.
"Those pine-trees are tall," said Caspar.
"Not tall enough, Sahib," rejoined the shikarree.
"We can splice them," continued Caspar.
Ossaroo shook his head, but said nothing in reply.
The idea, however, had begotten new hopes; and all three walked down the
ravine with brisker steps. They scanned the cliffs on either side as
they advanced, but these they had examined before.
Treading with caution they approached the edge of the crevasse. They
looked across. A hundred feet wide--perhaps more than a hundred feet--
yawned that fearful gulf. They knelt down and gazed into the chasm. It
opened far away into the earth--hundreds of feet below where they knelt.
It narrowed towards the bottom. They could see the crystal cliffs,
blue at the top, grow greener and darker as they converged towards each
other. They could see huge boulders of rock and masses of icy snow
wedged between them, and could hear far below the roaring of water. A
torrent ran there--no doubt the superfluous waters of the lake escaping
by this subglacial stream.
A sublime, but terrible sight it was; and although the nerves of all
were strung to an extreme degree, it made them giddy to look into the
chasm, and horrid feelings came over them as they listened to the
unnatural echoes of their voices. To have descended to the bottom would
have been a dread peril: but they did not contemplate such an
enterprise. They knew that such a proceeding would be of no use, even
could they have accomplished it. Once in the bottom of the chasm the
opposite steep would still have to be climbed, and this was plainly an
impossibility. They thought not of crossing in that way--their only
hope lay in the possibility of bridging the crevasse; and to this their
whole attention was now turned.
Such a project might appear absurd. Men of weaker minds would have
turned away from it in despair; and so, too, might they have done, but
for the hopelessness of all other means of escape. It was now life or
death with them--at all events, it was freedom or captivity.
To give up all hope of returning to their homes and friends--to spend
the remainder of their lives in this wild fastness--was a thought almost
as painful as the prospect of death itself.
It was maddening to entertain such a thought, and as yet not one of them
could bring himself to dwell upon the reality of so terrible a destiny.
But the fact that such in reality would be their fate, unless they could
discover some mode of escaping from their perilous situation, sharpened
all their wits; and every plan was brought forward and discussed with
the most serious earnestness.
As they stood gazing across that yawning gulf, the conviction entered
their minds that _it was possible to bridge it_.
Karl was the first to give way to this conviction. Caspar, ever
sanguine, soon yielded to the views of his brother; and Ossaroo, though
tardily convinced, acknowledged that they could do no better than try.
The scientific mind of the botanist had been busy, and had already
conceived a plan--which though it would be difficult of execution, did
not seem altogether impracticable. On one thing, however, its
practicability rested--the width of the chasm. This must be
ascertained, and how was it to be done?
It could not be guessed--that was clear. The simple estimate of the eye
is a very uncertain mode of measuring--as was proved by the fact that
each one of the three assigned a different width to the crevasse. In
fact, there was full fifty feet of variation in their estimates. Karl
believed it to be only a hundred feet in width, Ossaroo judged it at a
hundred and fifty, while Caspar thought it might be between the two.
How, then, were they to measure it exactly? That was the first question
that came before them.
Had they been in possession of proper instruments, Karl was scholar
enough to have determined the distance by triangulation; but they had
neither quadrant nor theodolite; and that mode was therefore impossible.
I have said that their wits were sharpened by their situation, and the
difficulty about the measurement was soon got over. It was Ossaroo who
decided that point.