Chapter Three.. Caspar, Ossaroo, and Fritz
An English ship carried the plant-hunter to Calcutta, and his own good legs carried him to the foot of the Himalaya Mountains. He might have travelled there in many other ways – for perhaps in no country in the world are there so many modes of travelling as in India. Elephants, camels, horses, asses, mules, ponies, buffaloes, oxen, zebus, yaks, and men are all made use of to transport the traveller from place to place. Even dogs, goats, and sheep, are trained as beasts of burden!
Had Karl Linden been a Government emissary, or the employé of some regal patron, he would very likely have travelled in grand style – either upon an elephant in a sumptuous howdah, or in a palanquin with relays of bearers, and a host of coolies to answer to his call.
As it was, he had no money to throw away in such a foolish manner. It was not public money he was spending, but that of private enterprise, and his means were necessarily limited. He was not the less likely to accomplish the object for which he had been sent out. Many a vast and pompous expedition has gone forth regardless either of expense or waste – ay, many a one that has returned without having accomplished the object intended. “Too many cooks spoil the dinner,” is a familiar old adage, very applicable to exploring expeditions; and it is a question, whether unaided individual enterprise has not effected more in the way of scientific and geographical discovery, than has been done by the more noisy demonstrations of governments. At all events, it is certain enough, that the exploring expeditions to which we are most indebted for our geognostic knowledge are those that have been fitted out with the greatest economy. As an example, I may point to the tracing of the northern coasts of America – which, after costing enormous sums of money, and the lives of many brave men, has been done, after all, by the Hudson’s Bay Company with a simple boat’s crew, and at an expense, that would not have franked one of our grand Arctic exploring expeditions for a week!
I might point to the economic mode by which the Americans are laying open their whole continent – a single officer having lately been sent to descend the Amazon alone, and explore its extensive valley from the Andes to the Atlantic. This was performed, and a copious report delivered to the American government and to the world at an expense of a few hundred dollars; whereas an English exploration of similar importance would have cost some thousands of pounds, with perhaps a much scantier return, for the outlay.
As with the American explorer, so was it with our plant-hunter. There was no expensive equipment or crowd of idle attendants. He reached the Himalayas on foot, and on foot he had resolved to climb their vast slopes and traverse their rugged valleys.
But Karl Linden was not alone. Far from it. He was in company with him he held dearest of all others in the world – his only brother. Yes, the stout youth by his side is his brother Caspar, who had joined him in his exile, and now shares the labours and perils of his expedition. There is no great difference between them in point of size, though Caspar is two years the younger. But Caspar’s strength has not been wasted by too much study. He has never been penned up within the walls of a college or a city; and, fresh from his native hills, his stout build and bright ruddy cheek present a contrast to the thinner form and paler visage of the student.
Their costumes are in keeping with their looks. That of Karl exhibits the sombre hue of the man of learning, while on his head he wears the proscribed “Hecker hat.” Caspar’s dress is of a more lively style, and consists of a frock of Tyrolese green, a cap of the same colour, with long projecting peak, over-alls of blue velveteen, and Blucher boots.
Both carry guns, with the usual accoutrements of sportsmen. Caspar’s gun is a double-barrelled fowling-piece; – while that of Karl is a rifle of the species known as a “Swiss yäger.”
A true hunter is Caspar, and although still but a boy, he has often followed the chamois in its dizzy path among his native mountains. Of letters he knows little, for Caspar has not been much to school; but in matters of hunter-craft he is well skilled. A brave and cheerful youth is Caspar – foot-free and untiring – and Karl could not have found in all India a better assistant.
But there is still another individual in the train of the plant-hunter – the guide, Ossaroo. It would take pages to describe Ossaroo; and he is worthy of a full description: but we shall leave him to be known by his deeds. Suffice it to say, that Ossaroo is a Hindoo of handsome proportions, with his swarth complexion, large beautiful eyes, and luxuriant black hair, which characterise his race. He is by caste a “shikarree,” or hunter, and is not only so by hereditary descent, but he is one of the noted “mighty hunters” in the province to which he belongs. Far and wide is his name known – for Ossaroo possesses, what is somewhat rare among his indolent countrymen, an energy of mind, combined with strength and activity of body, that would have given him distinction anywhere; but among a people where such qualities are extremely rare, Ossaroo is of course a hunter-hero – the Nimrod of his district.
Ossaroo’s costume and equipments differ entirely from those of his fellow-travellers. A white cotton tunic, and wide trousers, sandals, a scarlet sash around the waist, a check shawl upon the head, a light spear in the hand, a bamboo bow, a quiver of arrows on his back, a long knife stuck behind the sash, a shoulder-belt sustaining a pouch, with various trinket-like implements suspended over his breast. Such is the coup d’oeil presented by the shikarree.
Ossaroo had never in his life climbed the mighty Himalayas. He was a native of the hot plains – a hunter of the jungles – but for all that the botanist had engaged him for a guide. It was not so much a guide to enable them to find their route, as one who could assist them in their daily duties, who knew the way of life peculiar to this part of the world, who knew how to keep house in, the open air, Ossaroo was the very man of all others.
Moreover the expedition was just to his mind. He had long gazed upon the gigantic Himalaya from the distant plains – he had looked upon its domes and peaks glittering white in the robes of eternal snow, and had often desired to make a hunting excursion thither. But no good opportunity had presented itself, although through all his life he had lived within sight of those stupendous peaks. He, therefore, joyfully accepted the offer of the young botanist, and became “hunter and guide” to the expedition.
There was still another of the hunter-race in that company – one as much addicted to the chase as either Ossaroo or Caspar. This was a quadruped as tall as a mastiff dog, but whose black-and-tan colour and long pendulous ears bespoke him of a different race – the race of the hound. He was, in truth, a splendid hound, whose heavy jaws had ere now dragged to the ground many a red stag, and many a wild Bavarian boar. A dog to be valued was Fritz, and highly did his master esteem him. Caspar was that master. Caspar would not have exchanged Fritz for the choicest elephant in all India.