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............