At the same instant, Caspar and the shikaree ran backward—tightening the rope as they went; and like a vast vulture with outspread wings, the bird soared silently upward into the air.
It rose with a regular majestic motion, soon overtopping the trees that grew near, and still mounting on towards the summit of the cliff.
Karl cheered as he saw it ascend. The others were too busy in the performance of their parts to find time for this expression of triumph; and not until the kite had soared high into the heavens, and appeared many yards above the brow of the beetling precipice, did Caspar and Ossaroo respond to the cheering of Karl. Then both together gave vent to their excited feelings in a long-continued hurrah!
“Let go now, Ossaroo!” cried Karl, shouting so as to be heard above the wind. “You, Caspar, keep hold of the end of the cord.”
Ossaroo, obedient to the order, suddenly slackened his hold—at the same time springing towards Caspar, and prudently seizing the end along with him.
The kite, thus released, like some huge bird that had received its death-wound, turned head downwards towards the earth; and, after making various sinuous evolutions through the air, flouting its long tail first in one direction then in another—it was seen darting down towards the acclivity of the mountain. At length, passing behind the summit of the cliffs, it was no longer visible to the eyes of those who had aided it in its lofty flight, and then left it helplessly to fall.
So far they had succeeded to the utmost of their expectations. The kite had alighted, just where they wanted it.
But now arose the question—would it stay there? In other words, would it be caught among the rocks, and hold fast?
If not, they would have to fly it again and again, until it should get fastened above, or until the experiment should prove a failure.
Karl stepped forward to decide the point—the others looking on with an eagerness of glance, that betrayed how deep was their interest in the result.