een a dread peril: but they did not contemplate such an
enterprise. They knew that such a proceeding would be of no use, even
could they have accomplished it. Once in the bottom of the chasm the
opposite steep would still have to be climbed, and this was plainly an
impossibility. They thought not of crossing in that way--their only
hope lay in the possibility of bridging the crevasse; and to this their
whole attention was now turned.

Such a project might appear absurd. Men of weaker minds would have
turned away from it in despair; and so, too, might they have done, but
for the hopelessness of all other means of escape. It was now life or
death with them--at all events, it was freedom or captivity.

To give up all hope of returning to their homes and friends--to spend
the remainder of their lives in this wild fastness--was a thought almost
as painful as the prospect of death itself.

It was maddening to entertain such a thought, and as yet not one of them
could bring himself to dwell upon the reality of so terrible a destiny.
But the fact that such in reality would be their fate, unless they could
discover some mode of escaping from their perilous situation, sharpened
all their wits; and every plan was brought forward and discussed with
the most serious earnestness.

As they stood gazing across that yawning gulf, the conviction entered
their minds that _it was possible to bridge it_.

Karl was the first to give way to this conviction. Caspar, ever
sanguine, soon yielded to the views of his brother; and Ossaroo, though
tardily convinced, acknowledged that they could do no better than try.
The scientific mind of the botanist had been busy, and had already
conceived a plan--which though it would be difficult of execution, did
not seem altogether impracticable. On one thing, however, its
practicability rested--the width of the chasm. This must be
ascertained, and how was it to be done?

It could not be guessed--that was clear. The simple estimate of the eye
is a very uncertain mode of measuring--as was proved by the fact that
each one of the three assigned a different width to the crevasse. In
fact, there was full fifty feet of variation in their estimates. Karl
believed it to be only a hundred feet in width, Ossaroo judged it at a
hundred and fifty, while Caspar thought it might be between the two.
How, then, were they to measure it exactly? That was the first question
that came before them.

Had they b