Chapter 47 - The Plant Hunters by Mayne Reid

Karl in a Fix.

It is not difficult to comprehend the reason. Any one who has ever climbed up a steep ascent,—such as a piece of wall, the mast of a ship, or even an ordinary ladder,—will have noticed that the going up, is much easier than the getting down again; and where the ascent is very steep and difficult, it is quite possible that a person may make their way to the top, without being able to get back to the bottom. The difficulty of descending is much greater than that of ascending. In the latter, you can see where you are to set your feet, and also what you are to take hold of with your hands; whereas, in the former you have not this advantage; but must grope your way downward, and are therefore continually exposed to the danger of missing your footing, and being precipitated to the bottom.

This was just the situation in which the plant-hunter found himself. It was as much as he had been able to pull himself up; it was more than he could do to let himself down again; this he perceived at a single glance.

It is true that the rock slanted a little, and he had clearly seen this from below. Now that he looked at it from above, he could scarcely perceive any slant. It appeared almost vertical, and it was full forty feet to the bottom; a fearful height when viewed from above; he wondered how he had been able to climb up at all, and he was now vexed with himself for having been so rash and foolish.

But he could not stay there all night. Something must be done, to free him from his unpleasant situation; and, gathering resolution, he made an attempt to descend.

He knelt down upon the ledge, with his face turned toward the cliff and his back outwards. Then, grasping the rock, in his hands, he allowed his feet to slip over. He succeeded in finding the uppermost steps, but then came the difficulty. He dared not let go with his hands, so as to get another step downward; and, on lowering his feet to feel for a fresh foothold, he could not discover any. Repeatedly he ran his toes over the face of the rock, groping for a notch or jutting point, but he could find nothing upon which to rest either foot, and he was at length obliged to draw them up, and place himself back upon the ledge.

He now bethought him that there might be a better place for making the descent; and, rising to his feet, he proceeded to search for it. He had no difficulty in passing along the ledge; it was several feet in width, and he could walk erect upon it without danger. It extended for nearly fifty yards along the face of the cliff, and was of nearly equal breadth all the way.

Karl proceeded along it from one end to the other, at every step or two stopping and looking downward.

But his examination ended in disappointment. There was no path leading from it, at all practicable for any other creature than a cat, or some other animal with crooked claws,—at all events, there was no place where Karl himself could get down,—and he turned to go back to the point where he had ascended, with a feeling of apprehension that he was not going to get down at all!

On proceeding along the ledge, he had not yet bent his eyes upon the cliff that rose behind,—his attention being altogether occupied with the part that lay below; on going back, however, his eye ranged more freely, and he now noticed a dark hole in the rock, a few feet above the level of the ledge. This hole was about as big as an ordinary doorway, and upon closer examination, Karl perceived that it was the mouth of a cave. He noticed, moreover, that it appeared to grow wider beyond the entrance, and was no doubt a cavern of large dimensions. He had no further curiosity in relation to it; only that the reflection crossed his mind that he might be compelled to pass the night there. This was probable enough; unless, indeed, Ossaroo or Caspar should come in search of him before nightfall, and relieve him from his elevated prison. But it was just as likely they might not; for frequently one of the party was out for hours together, without causing any uneasiness to the rest, and it would be after night before they would feel any apprehension about his absence. In the darkness, too, they might go in the wrong direction to search for him, and might wander about through the woods a long time before coming near the place where he was. He was in the very farthest corner of the valley, and shut up in the ravine, with rocks and high woods between him and them; and thus his shouts could not be heard at any great distance.

These were the reflections that passed through his mind, as he returned along the ledge to the point where he had climbed up. He did not enter the cave to examine it—as he would certainly have done under other circumstances—but his curiosity was now controlled by the apprehension he very naturally felt in the dilemma in which he was placed.

That he could do nothing to free himself from it was clear enough to his mind. He must wait, therefore, until either Caspar came, or Ossaroo, or both; and, summoning all his patience, he sat down upon the ledge and waited.

Of course, he did not wait in silence. He had the sense to know, that if he kept silent they might not find him at all; and therefore, at short intervals, he rose to his feet, and shouted at the top of his voice, causing the cliffs to reverberate in numberless echoes.

The echoes, however, were the only replies he received. Loud as were his cries, they were not heard either by Caspar or Ossaroo.