“I am sure of it,” replied the botanist. “It would serve even better than the daphne paper; and had I believed there was a chance of finding it here, I should have preferred it to that. But I do not think we shall find it. I have observed no species of birch; and I know that this one, like most of the Betulaceae, affects a much colder climate than there is in this valley. Likely enough, it grows on the mountains above; but there it is out of our reach. Could we reach it there, we should not need to be robbing it of its manifold envelope. But let us not despair,” added Karl, endeavouring to appear cheerful; “perhaps it may be found growing down here; or, if not, we may still find another grove of the daphne trees. Let us proceed on and search!”
Karl was far from being sanguine in either conjecture; and it was as well for him that he was not: for after a minute and careful exploration of the valley—which occupied nearly three whole days—neither the wished-for birch, nor the desired daphne trees—nor any other material out of which a kite might be manufactured—rewarded their search.
It was of no use, therefore, to think any longer of a kite; and the subject was at length dismissed from their minds.
Chapter Forty Nine.
Aerostatics.
It is scarce possible to talk of a paper kite, without thinking of that other and greater aerostatic contrivance—a balloon.
Karl had thought of it, long before this time; and so had Caspar, just as long: for the kite had suggested it simultaneously to the minds of both.
It may be asked why they had not entertained the thought, and endeavoured to carry it into practical effect: since a balloon would have been far more likely to have delivered them out of their “mountain prison” than a paper kite?