There was nothing mysterious in the disappearance of the cord. The kite was no longer visible on the summit of the cliff. The wind had carried it away; and, of course, its rope along with it.

When the first moment of surprise had passed, our adventurers turned towards each other with glances that spoke something more than disappointment. Notwithstanding the number of times that the kite had failed to fix itself, still it had once taken a fast hold, and it was but reasonable to suppose it would have done so again. Besides, there were other places where the precipice was as low, and even lower, than where they had made the trials; and at some of these they might have been more successful. Indeed, there was every probability that, had they not lost that kite, they would have been able in due time to have climbed out of their rock-bound prison by a ladder of rope; but now all chance of doing so was gone for ever—swept off by a single puff of wind.

You may be fancying, that the misfortune was not irremediable. Another kite, you will be saying, might be constructed out of similar materials as those used in making the one carried away. But to say this, would be to speak without a full knowledge of the circumstances.

The same thought had already passed through the minds of our adventurers, when they perceived that the kite they were flying was getting torn and otherwise damaged.

“We can easily make another,” suggested Caspar at that crisis.

“No, brother,” was the answer of Karl; “never another, I fear. We have paper enough left to patch this one; but not enough to make another.”

“But we can make more paper, can we not?” urged Caspar, interrogatively.

“Ah!” again replied Karl, with a negative shake of the head, “no more—not another sheet!”

“But why? Do you think there are no more daphne trees?”

“I think there are not. You remember we stripped all there were in the thicket; and since then, thinking we might need more bark, I have gone all through the valley, and explored it in every direction, without meeting with a single shrub of the daphne. I am almost certain there are none.”

This conversation between the brothers had occurred, long before the losing of the kite. When that event came to pass, it was not necessary for them to repeat it; and, both being thus acquainted with the fact that it was impossible for them to construct another, they felt that they had sustained an irreparable loss.

In what direction had the kite been carried off? Might it not be blown along the line of cliffs, and tossed back again into the valley?

As there appeared some probability that such a chance might arise, all three ran outward from the rocks—in order to command a better view of the precipice, on each side.

For a long time they stood watching—in hopes that they might see the great paper-bird returning to the scene of its nativity. But it never came back; and they became at length convinced, that it never would. Indeed, the direction of the wind—when they paused to consider it—rendered the thing not only improbable, but impossible. It was blowing from the cliffs, a............