he might climb up to the ledge itself. There
was a portion of the rock below with a slanting face, and here and there
some broken hollows and jutting points that would serve him as
foot-holds.

Once upon the ledge, the measurement would be simple enough. It would
be only to let down a string with a small stone at the end, like a
plumber's line; and then mark how much string it required to reach the
ground.

He chanced to have about him a longish piece of rawhide thong, that
would serve admirably, and to carry out his purpose, he at once
determined upon ascending to the ledge.

Drawing the thong from his pocket, and attaching to one end of it the
piece of stone, he approached the cliff, and commenced scrambling
upward.

He found it a more difficult task than it had appeared, and it was just
as much as he could do to reach the ledge in safety. Had it been
Caspar, the climbing would have been a mere bagatelle, used, as the
young hunter had been, to the precipices of the Alps while following the
rock-loving chamois.

But Karl was no great hand at such gymnastic exercises; and he was all
out of breath, and a little bit frightened at his rashness, before he
had placed himself safely on the shelf.

Stepping along it, therefore, till he reached a point where the cliff
below was vertical, he dropped his stone and line, and soon completed
his measurement. Alas! it proved to be far higher than he had
conjectured in viewing it from below. His spirits fell as he
contemplated the result. He was now certain that the space higher up
could not be spanned by any ladder they might be able to construct.

With sad heart, he returned to the place where he had made the ascent,
intending to go down again. But it is sometimes easier to say go down
than to do it; and to Karl's great consternation he saw at the first
glance that he could no more go down than fly upward into the air.
Beyond a doubt he was in a fix; regularly "nailed" upon the cliff.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

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