ally, and
directed its flight in a horizontal line along the cliffs. The log was
jerked over the ground, bounding from point to point, occasionally
swinging in the air, but only for a few seconds at a time.

At length the conviction forced itself upon the minds of the
spectators--as it seemed also to have done upon that of the performer--
that to reach the top of the cliff--with a cord upon its leg, equal in
weight to that log--was more than a bearcoot could accomplish.

In short, the plan had proved a failure; and, no longer hoping for
success, our adventurers turned their disappointed looks upon each
other--leaving the eagle free to drag his wooden anchor whithersoever he
might wish.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

FURTHER EXPERIMENTS.

The usual silence which succeeds a disappointment was for some time
preserved by the three individuals who had been spectators of the
unsuccessful attempt of the eagle. Caspar seemed less cast down than
the others; but why it was so, neither of them thought of asking him.

It was not a silence of very long duration, nor was the chagrin that had
caused it of much longer continuance. Both were evanescent as the
summer cloud that for a moment darkens the sky, and then glides off--
leaving it bright and serene as ever.

It was to Caspar the party was indebted for this happy change of
feeling. An idea had occurred to the young hunter--or rather a new
scheme--which was at once communicated to his companions.

Strictly speaking, Caspar's scheme could not be termed a _new_ one. It
was only supplementary to that already set before them by Karl; and the
bearcoot, as before, was to be the chief actor in it.

While calculating the length of rope it would take to reach to the top
of the cliff, Caspar had already bethought him of a way by which it
might be shortened--in other words, how it might be arranged, that a
shorter rope would suffice. He had for some time carried this idea in
his mind; but had declined communicating it, to the others, until after
witnessing the test of the eagle's strength. Now that the bearcoot had
been "weighed and found wanting," you might suppose that the creature
would be no longer cared for--excepting to furnish them with a meal.
This was the reflection of Karl and Ossaroo; but Caspar thought
differently. He was impressed with a belief, that the bird might still
do them a service--the very one which he had undertaken so
unsuccessfully.

Caspar reflecte