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Cliff Climbers

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<h3>Chapter Fifty Eight.</h3> <h4>Fritz among the feathers.</h4> Their hilarity could not be continued for ever. Even that of Caspar came to a termination; though not until his ribs ached with the agreeable exercise. As their bean-sacks had been already filled, it was determined that they should first take them to the hut, and then return to the storks with the design of capturing them. Ossaroo was of the opinion, that they would have no difficulty in effecting this; declaring the birds to be so tame, that he might walk straight up to them, and throw a noose over their necks. This, in all probability, he might have done, had he been provided with a piece of cord proper for the making of such a noose. But there was no cord at hand—not even a bit of string—nothing but the rush baskets filled with the lotus beans. To obtain a snare, it would be necessary to make a journey to the hut. In the minds of our adventurers there was no very clear conception of the object of capturing the storks: unless it might have been that the thought, to which Caspar had given speech, was still entertained by himself and his brother. That indeed would have justified them in their attempt to take the birds. Another idea may have suggested itself—more especially to Ossaroo. If nothing else should come of it, there would be some pleasure in holding the birds in captivity—as pets and companions. Ossaroo had been involuntarily contemplating the prospect of a long lonely life in the solitude of that mountain valley. With such a prospect even the solemn stork might be regarded as a cheerful companion. Stimulated by these thoughts—and some others of a more indefinite kind—our adventurers came to the determination to ensnare the adjutants! All three commenced wading out of the lake—in a direction so as not to disturb the sleepers. Karl and Caspar—now that they had become inspired with a design—lifted their feet out of the water, and set them down again, as though they ere treading upon egg. Ossaroo sneered at their over-caution—telling them, that there was not the slightest fear of frightening the storks; and indeed there was truth in what he affirmed. In most countries bordering upon the banks of the Ganges, these birds, protected alike by superstitious fears and edicts of law, have become so used to the proximity of man, that they will scarce stir out of their way to avoid him. It was possible that the brace in question might have belonged to some of the wilder flocks—inhabiting the swamps of the Sunderbunds—and therefore less accustomed to human society. In that case there might be some difficulty in approaching them; and it was for this reason that Ossaroo had consented to adopt the precautions for their capture which Karl had insisted should be taken. The truth is, that Karl had conceived a deeper design than either of his companions. It had occurred to him—while engaged with his brother in that laughing duetto—and somewhat to the surprise of Caspar, it had caused a sudden cessation of his mirth, or at least the noisy ebullition of it. The philosopher had become silent and serious; as if the thought had suddenly arisen, that hilarity under the circumstances was indecorous and out of place. From that moment Karl had preserved a mysterious silence—even refusing to explain it when interrogated by Caspar. He was only silent on this one theme. Otherwise his speech flowed freely enough—in counsel to his companions—charging both to adopt every precaution for ensuring the capture of the storks—and with an eagerness, which puzzled them to comprehend. A few minutes’ walk brought them back to the hut. It was rather a run than a walk—Karl going in the lead, and arriving before either of the others. The bean-sacks were flung upon the floor—as if they had been empty and of no value—and then the strings and lines that had been spun by Ossaroo were pulled out of their hidden places, and submitted to inspection. It did not take long to make a running noose, which was accomplished by the nimble fingers of the shikaree. Easily also was it attached to the end of a long stem of the ringall bamboo; and thus provided, our adventurers once more sallied forth from the hut; and made their way towards the sleeping storks. As they drew near, they were gratified at perceiving the birds still in the enjoyment of their meridian slumber. No doubt they had made a long journey, and needed rest. Their wings hung drooping by their sides, proclaiming weariness. Perhaps they were dreaming—dreaming of a roost on some tall fig-tree, or the tower of an antique temple sacred to the worship of Buddha, Vishna, or Deva—dreaming of the great Ganges, and its odorous waifs—those savoury morsels of putrefying flesh, in which they delighted to dig their huge mattocks of mandibles. Ossaroo being entrusted with the noose, did not pause to think, about what they might be dreaming; or whether they were dreaming at all. Enough for him to perceive that they were sleeping; and, gliding forward in a bent attitude, silent as a tiger threading his native jungle, the shikaree succeeded in making approach—until he had got almost within snaring distance of the unconscious adjutants. There is many a slip between the cup and the lip. The old saw was illustrated in the case of the shikaree while endeavouring to ensnare the storks; though it was not the snare, but the birds that now illustrated the adage. After the attempt had been made, the snare could be still seen in its place, stiffly projecting from the point of the long bamboo rod; while the adjutants were soaring in the air, mounting still higher upward, their slender necks outstretched, their beaks cracking like castanets, and their throats emitting an angry sound like the roaring of a brace of lions. The failure was not to be attributed to Ossaroo; but to the imprudence of one of his companions—an individual of the party close treading upon his heels. That individual was Fritz! Just as Ossaroo was about casting his loop over the shoulders of a sleeping adjutant, Fritz—who had followed the party from the hut—now for the first time perceiving the birds, rushed forward and seized the tail of one of them between his teeth. Then, as if determined on securing the beautiful marabout feathers, he pulled a large mouthful of them clean out by the roots. This was not exactly the motive that impelled Fritz to make such an unexpected attack—unexpected, because the well-trained animal would have known better than to fright the game which his masters were in the act of stalking; and such imprudence had never before been displayed by him. It was the particular kind of game that had provoked Fritz to act contrary to his usual habit of caution; for of all the creatures which he had encountered, since his arrival in the counted there, was none that had inspired him with a more profound feeling of hostility than these same adjutants. During Fritz’s sojourn in the Botanic Gardens of Calcutta—where his masters, it will be remembered, were for some time entertained as guests—Fritz had often come in contact with a brace of these gigantic birds, that were also guests of that justly celebrated establishment: they habitually made their stay within the enclosure, where they were permitted to stalk about unmolested, and pick up such stray scraps as were cast out by the domestics of the curator’s mansion. These birds had grown so tame, as to take food freely out of the hand of anyone who offered it to them; and with like freedom, to take it where it was not offered, but found within reach of their long prehensile beaks. Often had they pilfered provisions to which they were anything but welcome; and, among other acts of their rapacity, there was one of which Fritz had been an interested spectator, and for which he was not likely ever to forgive them. That was, their robbing him of a dainty piece of meat, which one of the cooks had presented to Fritz himself; and upon which he had been going to make his dinner. One of the birds had the audacity to seize the meat in its mandibles, jerk it out of the dog’s very teeth, and swallow it, before the latter had time to offer either interruption or remonstrance. The consequence was, that, from that time, Fritz had conceived a most rancorous antipathy towards all birds of the genus Ciconia—and the species Argala in particular; and this it was that impelled him, on first perceiving the adjutant—for being by the hut on their arrival he had not seen them before,—to rush open-mouthed towards them, and seize the tail of one of them between his teeth. It is not necessary to add that the bird, thus indecorously assailed, took to instant flight, followed by its more fortunate though not less frightened mate—leaving Fritz in a temper to treat Marabout feathers as they had never been treated before—even when by the hands of some scorned and jealous vixen they may have been torn from the turban of some hated rival! <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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