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<h3>Chapter Forty Three.</h3> <h4>The paper-tree.</h4> To the great delight of the party, it turned out just as Karl had conjectured. The thicket that he had spoken of was composed chiefly of daphne shrubs—judging by the appearance of the fallen leaves, and some berries that still remained on the branches, Karl believed them to be of this species. But the bark was also a characteristic: being exceedingly tenacious, and moreover of a strongly acrid taste—so much so as to cauterise he skin of Ossaroo’s mouth, who had been foolish enough to chew it too freely. After duly examining the leaves, berries, and bark, the botanist came to the conclusion that the shrub must be a true daphne; and so in reality it was—that species known in Nepaul as the Daphne Bholua—from which, as already stated, the Nepaulese manufacture a coarse, but soft paper. As soon as this point was determined to their satisfaction, they resolved upon carrying Caspar’s hint into execution—by trying the experiment of a paper kite. But for Karl’s practical education—which had made him acquainted not only with the botanical characters of plants and trees, but also with their uses—and in some cases with the mode of using them—the mere discovery of the daphne would have availed them nothing. As it stood in the thicket, it was no more like paper than any of the trees that grew around it. Indeed, there were many others that would have yielded bark in broader flakes than it, and much more resembling paper: for that of the daphne, stripping off as it did in narrow pieces, looked like the last thing in the world of which to make a kite out of. But Karl knew the process by which it could be metamorphosed into paper; and without further delay, he entered upon the performance—the others placing their services at his disposal, and acting in obedience to his orders. The knife-blades of all three were called into requisition; and in an incredibly short space of time, some scores of the little trees were stripped of their bark—from their roots up to the lower branches. The trees themselves were not cut down; as that was not necessary. They could be peeled more readily, as they stood; and for this reason they were left standing. Up to the hour of sunset did these “cascarilleros” work—with only a few minutes of interruption, while they went back to the hut, and ate a hurried luncheon of ibex-meat—and just as the sun was sinking behind the summit of the great Chumulari, they might have been seen trudging homeward—each bearing a heavy bundle of bark, with Fritz following gleefully at their heels. The thicket from which they had taken their departure, gave evidence of the industry with which they had been working all day long. Over a space, of nearly half an acre in extent, the trees were seen standing, each with its tiny trunk completely divested of bark: as if a whole gang of goats had been browsing upon them! On reaching the hovel, our bark-gatherers did not desist from their labour. They only entered upon a new branch of industry: by becoming paper manufacturers. It was after night; and they had to work by the light of their torches of cheel-pine, already prepared. But as these burnt with a clear steady flame, they served quite as well as candles would have done. The first process in the paper-making did not require much nicety in its execution; and, moreover, it could be performed as well inside the hut as in the largest room of a paper-mill. All they had to do was to pick the bark to shreds. This occupied them the whole evening—during which there was much conversation of a cheerful kind, with a joke or two about oakum-picking in a prison; and of this, not only the task in which they were engaged, but the situation in which they were executing it, did not fail to remind them. When they had finished, they ate their frugal supper and retired to rest—full of the idea of continuing the paper manufacture in the morning. When morning came, they had not much to do: for the next process was one which required the exercise of patience rather than of labour. When the bark of the daphne has been thoroughly picked to pieces, it is put into a large pot or cauldron filled with water. A lixivium of wood-ashes is then thrown in along with it; and it is suffered to boil for several hours. As our manufacturers were without pot or cauldron of any kind, there would have been here an interruption of an insurmountable kind: had it not been that they had plenty of water already on the boil, and perpetually boiling—in the hot-spring near the hut. Apparently all they should have to do would be, to immerse the prepared bark in the spring, and there leave it for a proper length of time. But then the water, where it was hottest, was constantly in motion—bubbling up and running off; so that not only would the strings of bark be carried away, but the ashes would be separated from the mass, and consequently of no service in aiding to macerate it. How was this difficulty to be got over? Easily enough. They had not proceeded thus far without thinking of a plan; and this plan was, to place the bark along with the ashes in one of the large yâk-skins still in good preservation, and after making it up into a sort of bundle—like clothes intended for the laundry—to plunge the skin and its contents into the spring, and there leave them—until the boiling water should perform its part. By this ingenious contrivance, did they get over the difficulty, of not being provided with a not. When Karl thought that the bark was sufficiently boiled, it was taken out of the water, and also out of its yâk-skin wrapper. It was then placed, in mass, upon a flat rock near by—where it was left to drip and get dry. During the time that it was in the water—and also while it was dripping and drying on the rock—none of them were idle. Caspar was engaged in fashioning a stout wooden mallet—a tool which would be needed in some after operations—while Ossaroo was equally busy upon an article of a very different kind. This was a sort of sieve made of thin splints of cane, set in a frame of thicker pieces of the same cane—ringall bamboo. Ossaroo had undertaken this special task: as none of the others knew so well, how to fashion the bamboo into any required utensil; and although he was now making something altogether new to him, yet, working under the direction of Karl, he succeeded in making a sieve that was likely to serve the purpose for which plant-hunter designed it. That purpose will presently be spoken of. As soon as the fibre was nearly dry, the mallet was brought into requisition; and with this the mass was pounded upon the flat surface of the rock—until it became reduced to a complete state of “pulp.” This pulp was once more put into the yâk-skin—which had been gathered up around the edges so as to form a sort of concavity or rude vat—and again immersed under water—not of the boiling spring, but the cool water of the lake—until the bag became full. The pulp was next stirred with a stick—which brought the coarse dirty parts to the surface. These were skimmed off, and thrown away as refuse; and the process was repeated with fresh water—until the whole substance, which was of a mucilaginous character, was rendered pure, and soft to the touch. The next and last operation was in fact the making of the paper; and was performed by Karl himself. It was simple enough, though requiring a certain dexterity, or sleight of hand, to do it well. It consisted in placing a quantity of the pulp upon the sieve before mentioned; and cradling the frame about—all the time held under water—until the substance became equally and uniformly spread over the whole surface. The sieve was then taken out of the water—being raised gently and kept in a horizontal position—so as not to derange the even stratum of pulp that severed it. This done, nothing more remained but to place the frame across a pair of bars, and leave the pulp to get drained and eventually become dry. When dry, it would be paper! Of course, with one sieve, the whole quantity required could not be made at a single cast; but, as soon as one sheet became sufficiently dry to be taken off the frame, the sieve was again repulped; and so on, till the whole of the boiled bark was converted into paper; and they found themselves in possession of a sufficient number of broad sheets to make a kite as big as a coach-house-door. In consequence of their having to wait for the drying of each sheet, the process occupied them for several days; but during this time they had not been either idle or inactive. Karl and Caspar had been hard at work, in getting up the “bones” of the kite; while Ossaroo had undertaken to fabricate the tail. The rope with which it was to be “flyed,” occupied more time, and required more care, than any other portion of their work. Every strand had to be twisted with the greatest exactness; and almost every fibre tested, as to its strength and fitness. Could they have used a rope of stouter build, it would not have been necessary to be so particular; but a thick rope would have been too heavy for the kite to carry—just as it had been too heavy for the strength of the eagle. A slender cord, therefore, like that they were obliged to make, required to be faultless—else the life of some one of them might be sacrificed while attempting the ascent. With a foreknowledge of this, it is hardly necessary to say that Ossaroo did his best in the manufacture of that rope—every strand of it being twisted between his index finger and his thumb, as smoothly and evenly as if he had been spinning it for a fishing-line. The framework of the kite was made out of split culms of the ringall bamboo; which, on account of its strength, elasticity, and lightness, was far superior for the purpose to any species of exogenous wood; while the glue for laying on the paper was procured from the root of an arum—grated, and then boiled into a glutinous starch. In about a week after the notion of a kite had been “hatched” in the brain of Caspar, the bird itself might have been seen outside the door of the hut—full-fledged and ready for flight! <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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