The Cliff Climbers<br />A Sequel to "The Plant Hunters" by Mayne Reid (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📖

Karl felt confident of their doing so, as certain almost as if he had stood on the banks of the sacred stream in the R.B.G. itself, and saw them descending from their aerial flight and alighting within the enclosure. This confidence arose from the remembrance of his having heard—while sojourning with the Curator—that such had been their habit for many years; and that the time, both of their departure and arrival, was so periodically regular, that there was not an employé of the place who could not tell it to a day!

Fortunately, Karl remembered the time, though not the exact day. He knew the week, however, in which his guests might be expected to take their departure; and this was enough for his purpose.

During their stay in the valley the birds had been cared for, as if they had been sacred to some deity, adored by those who held them in charge.

Fish and flesh had they a plenty—with Ossaroo as their provider. Food and drink, whenever they stood in need of either; freedom from annoyance, and protection from enemies of every kind—even from Fritz, who had long since ceased to be their enemy. Nothing had been wanting to their comfort; everything had been granted—everything but their liberty.

This, too, was at length restored to them.

On a fair morning—such as a bird might have chosen for its highest flight—both were set free to go whithersoever they listed.

The only obstruction to their flight was a pair of small skin sacks, one attached to the neck of each, and prudently placed beyond the reach of its mandibles. Both were furnished with this curiously-contrived bag; for Karl—as the spare leaves of his memorandum-book enabled him to do—had determined that each should be entrusted with a letter and lest one should go astray, he had sent his despatch in duplicate.

For a time the birds seemed reluctant to leave those kind companions—who had so long fed and cherished them; but the instinct that urged them to seek the sunny plains of the South at length prevailed; and, giving a scream of adieu—reciprocated by the encouraging shouts of those they were leaving behind, and a prolonged baying from the throat of the boar-hound Fritz—they soared aloft into the air; and in slow, solemn flight ascended the cliff—soon to disappear behind the crest of the encircling ridge.

Ten days after, on that same cliff stood a score of men—a glad sight to Karl, Caspar, and Ossaroo. Even Fritz barked with joy as he beheld them!

Against the blue background of the sky, it could be perceived that these men carried coils of rope, pieces of wood, and other implements that might be required for scaling a cliff.

Our adventurers now knew, that, one or other, or both copies of their duplicate despatch, must have reached the destination for which they had designed it.

And the same destination was soon after reached by themselves. By the help of their rescuers, and the long rope-ladders which they let down, all three succeeded in climbing the cliff—Fritz making the ascent upon the shoulders of the shikaree!

All three, amidst a company of delighted deliverers—with Fritz following at their heels—once more descended the southern slope of the Himalayas; once more stood upon the banks of the sacred Ganges; once more entered within the hospitable gates of the R.B.G.—there to renew their acquaintance, not only with hospitable friends, but with those winged messengers, by whose instrumentality they had been delivered from their living tomb, and once more restored to society and the world!