en all
else fails us. Rough it is--like many a friend that is nevertheless
worthy. I begin to like its honest look, and feel regard for it as one
should for a home."

Caspar said nothing in reply. He only sighed. The young chamois-hunter
of the Bavarian Alps thought of another home--far away towards the
setting sun; and, so long as that thought was in his mind, he could
never reconcile himself to a forced residence in the Himalayas.

The thoughts of Ossaroo were equally absent from that spot. He was
thinking of a bamboo hut by the borders of some crystal stream,
overshadowed by palms and other tropical trees. He was thinking still
more of rice curry and chutnee; but above all, of his beloved "betel,"
for which the "bang" of the _cannabis sativa_ was but a poor substitute.

But Caspar had another thought in his mind; one which proved that he had
not yet abandoned all hope of returning to the home of his nativity;
and, after they had finished eating their supper of broiled venison, he
gave utterance to it.

He had not volunteered to break the silence. It was done in obedience
to a request of Karl who, having noticed the abstracted air of his
brother, had asked for an explanation.

"I've been thinking," said Caspar, "ever since the eagle has escaped us,
of another bird I know something about--one that might perform the
service we want quite as well, if not better, than a bearcoot."

"Another bird!" inquired Karl; "of what bird are you speaking? Do you
mean one of those Brahminy geese upon the lake? We might catch one
alive, it is true; but let me tell you, brother, that their wings are
constructed just strong enough to carry their own ponderous bodies; and
if you added another pound or two, by tying a cord to their legs, they
could no more mount out of this valley than we can. No--no. I fancy we
may as well give up that idea. There's no bird but an eagle with wing
strong enough to do what you wish."

"The bird I was thinking of," rejoined Caspar, "is of the same _genus_
as the eagle. I believe that's correctly scientific language. Isn't
it, my Buffon of a brother? Ha! ha! Well, shall I name it? Surely,
you have already divined the sort of bird to which I allude?"

"No, indeed," replied Karl. "There are no other birds in this valley of
the same genus as the eagle--except hawks; and according to the closet
naturalists, they are not of the same genus--only of the same _family_.
If you mean a hawk, t