The usual silence which succeeds a disappointment was for some time preserved by the three individuals who had been spectators of the unsuccessful attempt of the eagle. Caspar seemed less cast down than the others; but why it was so, neither of them thought of asking him.

It was not a silence of very long duration, nor was the chagrin that had caused it of much longer continuance. Both were evanescent as the summer cloud that for a moment darkens the sky, and then glides off—leaving it bright and serene as ever.

It was to Caspar the party was indebted for this happy change of feeling. An idea had occurred to the young hunter—or rather a new scheme—which was at once communicated to his companions.

Strictly speaking, Caspar’s scheme could not be termed a new one. It was only supplementary to that already set before them by Karl; and the bearcoot, as before, was to be the chief actor in it.

While calculating the length of rope it would take to reach to the top of the cliff, Caspar had already bethought him of a way by which it might be shortened—in other words, how it might be arranged, that a shorter rope would suffice. He had for some time carried this idea in his mind; but had declined communicating it, to the others, until after witnessing the test of the eagle’s strength. Now that the bearcoot had been “weighed and found wanting,” you might suppose that the creature would be no longer cared for—excepting to furnish them with a meal. This was the reflection of Karl and Ossaroo; but Caspar thought differently. He was impressed with a belief, that the bird might still do them a service—the very one which he had undertaken so unsuccessfully.

Caspar reflected, and very correctly: that it was the extra weight that had hindered the eagle from ascending. It was not so much beyond his strength neither. Perhaps had it been only half as heavy, or even a little more, he might have succeeded in carrying it over the cliff.

What if the weight should be reduced?

To make the rope more slender did not enter into Caspar’s calculations. He knew this could not be done: since it was a point already discussed and decided upon.

But how if the rope were to be shorter, than that which had been theoretically considered? How if it were to be only fifty yards, instead of one hundred and fifty? Of course, then the eagle might fly with it, to whatever height its length would allow.

Caspar felt satisfied of this fact; nor did either of the others question its truth—but what then?

“What,” inquired Karl, “would be the use of a rope of fifty yards, though the eagle might carry it up to the moon? Even at the lowest part of the cliffs—should the bearcoot take one end over, the other would be fifty yards above our heads?”

“Not a yard, brother—not a foot. ............