The Young Yagers Part 21

Without further ado the whole six turned their horses' heads for the mountain, leaving the wagons to trek on across the plain, towards the point where they intended to encamp.

When the riders first faced to the mountain, it appeared to be about a mile off, and all, except Hans, believed that it was not more. Hans maintained that it was _five_, and was unanimously contradicted. A discussion took place, Hans standing alone--five to one against him.

The idea of its being more than a mile was scouted. Hans was ridiculed--laughed at--called blind.

There was a little epitome of the world on that plain--a paraphrase upon a small scale of Galileo and his contemporaries.

And here let me counsel you, boy reader, ever to be cautious how you p.r.o.nounce against ideas that may be put forth, because they chance to differ from those you already hold. Half of what you have already learnt is erroneous, and much of it has been taught you with an evil intent. I do not refer to what has been taught you by your school instructor, who imparts knowledge to you with the best of motives. But the tyrants of the earth--both priests and princes--for long centuries have had the moulding of men's minds, and they have spared no labour to shape them to their own purposes. They have so well succeeded, that one half the _very proverbs_ by which conduct is guided, prove upon examination to be false and wicked.

There is a peculiarity about the attainment of knowledge which a.s.sists wicked men in misleading their victims, and I would wish that all of you should know this peculiarity. I do not claim to be its discoverer, for others may have discovered it as well; but up to this hour I have met with no promulgation of it.

It is this, that _every truth is overshadowed by a sophism, more like the truth than truth itself_. This law holds good throughout the whole extent of the moral, intellectual, and material world.

I cannot pause here to ill.u.s.trate the above statement--not even to explain it. But I hope the day is not distant, when you and I may converse upon such matters _face to face_.

I hope you believe that I have helped you to some knowledge; but I now affirm, and in full seriousness, that, if you examine the statement I have thus emphatically made, and _study it to a full understanding_, you will have gained more knowledge in that one sentence than all I have hitherto written. You will find in it the key to most of the errors and misfortunes that afflict mankind.

In that sentence you will also find a key to the difference of opinion that existed between Hans and his five companions. None of the five were _thinkers_--they relied entirely on the evidence of their senses.

A process of ratiocination never troubled the brain of any of the five.

Had they never before seen a straight rod plunged into crystal water, they would most certainly have believed that the rod was bent into an angle--ay, and have ridiculed any one who should have contradicted the _evidence of their senses_, just in the way they now ridiculed Hans for a.s.serting that an object was five miles off, when they _plainly saw_ it was only a fifth part of that distance. It certainly _appeared_ only a mile off--that is, to one who had been in the habit of measuring distances by the eye in the ordinary atmosphere of a lowland country.

But Hans knew they were now in a region elevated many thousand feet above the level of the sea. Partly from books, and partly from his own observation, he had studied the nature of the atmosphere at that alt.i.tude; and he was acquainted with the optical illusions of which it is frequently the cause. He admitted that the mountain _looked_ near, even as near as a mile; but he held on to his original opinion.

Patient as was the young philosopher, the ridicule of his companions nettled him a little; and suddenly pulling up on the plain, he challenged them to a measurement. They all agreed to the proposal.

They had no measuring chain--not even a yardstick.

But they knew that Hans could tell distances without one; and having consented that his measurement should be taken, they all rode back to the point where the discussion had commenced.

How was Hans going to manage it? By trigonometrical triangles, you will say. Not a bit of it. He could have told the distance in that way if he had wished; but he had a simpler plan. Hans did not carry a _viameter_, but a _viameter_ carried him!

Yes, in the stout steady-going cob which he rode, he had as perfect a viameter as ever was set to a wheel; and Hans having once put his horse to the proper pace, could tell the distance pa.s.sed over almost as correctly as if it had been traced by a chain! There was a certain rate of speed into which Hans's horse, when left to himself, was sure to fall, and this speed was so many steps to the minute--the steps being of equal length. By either counting the steps, or noting the time, the exact distance could be obtained.

Hans had been in the habit of putting his horse to the proper pace for this very purpose, and could do so at a minute's warning. So, taking out his watch to regulate the speed by the moment hand, he started forward in a direct line for the mountain.

All rode, after, without noise--so as not to disturb Hans in his counting. But for that, they would have continued to gibe him a little.

Only for a short while, however; for, as they rode on, and the mountain did not appear to _come_ any nearer, their faces began to look very blank indeed.

When they had ridden for a full half-hour, and the mountain _still looked a mile off_, Hans had five very crest-fallen boys moving along in his rear.

When they had ridden nearly another half-hour, and their horses' snouts almost touched the rocks of the mountain, none of the five was surprised to hear Hans cry out in a loud firm voice:--

"Just five miles and a quarter!"

Not a word was spoken. Not one of the five ventured even a whisper of contradiction. Hans did not laugh in his turn, but facing round simply said--

"_Every truth is overshadowed by a sophism more like the truth than truth itself_!"

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

THE APPROACH TO THE LONE MOUNTAIN.

Although from a distance the mountain had appeared of smooth outlines, now, that they gazed upward from its base, it presented quite a different aspect. Loose boulders of rock, strewed thickly upon the slope, covered its sides up to the very summit, giving it the appearance of a gigantic "cairn," such as may be seen upon the tops of some of our own mountains. These, however, are the work of men, while that upon which our yagers gazed looked as though giants had erected it.

Among the loose stones there was yet a trace of vegetable life. Plants of the cactus kind, and rare euphorbias, grow in the s.p.a.ces between the rocks; and here and there stood a small tree, with spreading top and myrtle-like foliage, casting its shadow over the side of the mountain.

The arborescent aloe was also seen, its coral-red spike appearing above the sharp edge of some huge boulder, and strongly contrasting with the dull grey of the rock.

After contemplating the singular eminence for some minutes, it was proposed that they should all ascend to its summit. It appeared but a very short way. The path was not very steep. A ten minutes' climb would suffice. What a splendid view they should have from its top! It commanded a prospect of the country they were about to traverse for the next three days' journey at least. They might lay out their course from it, and by noting landmarks, avoid the detours of mountain-spurs and other obstacles. Should they ascend it?

Yes. All of them desired to do so--some to enjoy the view; some for the fun of climbing; and Klaas and Jan because they had seen a large bird wheeling around the summit, which might be the king of birds--an eagle; and they wished to make a nearer acquaintance with his majesty.

Hans also had an interest in going up. He wanted to examine the vegetation of the mountain--that appeared to differ essentially from that of the surrounding plain--and particularly the myrtle-leaved tree already mentioned.

So the voice for making the ascent was unanimous--_nemine dissentiente_.

Without further ado, they all dismounted--for it would have been impossible to have ridden up such a rock-strewed path--and secured their horses by tying their bridles together. This was their usual way when there was no tree to which they could make them fast. The mode answered well enough. The animals were well acquainted, and on friendly terms, so that they did not bite or kick one another; and with their noses all turned inward, no one of them could stray off without the consent of the other five, and this unanimity could never be obtained. Even had five of them agreed to wander a bit, there was one that would have opposed such a conspiracy, and _pulled against it_ with all his might--one that would have remained loyal to his master; and that was Hans's steady, sober-sided cob, that had been trained to wait wherever his rider left him. Upon many a botanical excursion had he carried his master, and often had stood with no other fastening than the bridle thrown over his withers, while the botanist climbed the rocky steep, or dived into the thick bush, to pluck some rare plant or flower.

Leaving their horses, the party commenced the ascent. Now their path lay between large ma.s.ses of granite, and now pa.s.sed over the tops of the rocks. It required them to use all their strength and agility; and although from below they fancied they would reach the summit in about five minutes time, they were sadly disappointed.

There are few things more deceptive than the ascent of a mountain. It is usually more difficult than it appears, and a large allowance should be made in the calculation, both for time and labour. The philosopher Hans knew this very well, and told the others that it would take them a full half-hour to get to the top. Some of them were inclined to ridicule his a.s.sertion; but they remembered their late humiliating defeat, and remained silent--although they _thought_ five minutes would bring them to the very summit.

At the end of five minutes they began to change their opinion; and when three times five had pa.s.sed over, they found they were still but half-way up the slope!

Here they halted, and five minutes were spent in "puffing and blowing."

Hans had now an opportunity of examining the tree that so interested him, for they had stopped under the shade of one.

It was not a large tree, nor could it be called a very handsome one; but for all that it proved to be of a most interesting character. It was much branched with small leaves, of a pale green colour, and in their general effect having a resemblance to the myrtles. Its flowers, too, were small and inconspicuous. It chanced to be in flower at the time, and this enabled the botanist to determine its character. It belonged to the order _Santalaceae_, or "sandal-woods;" and was a species of _Santalum_, closely allied to the _Santalum alb.u.m_ of India, which yields the sandal-wood of commerce.

They all knew what sandal-wood was, as they had seen various "knick-knacks" manufactured out of this famous wood; but they knew not whence it came, or what sort of tree produced it. Hans, however, taking advantage of the halt, gave them this information:--

"The sandal-wood," he said, "is produced from a tree of the same genus as the one now above us. It grows in the mountainous parts of the Malabar country, and also in the islands of the Indian Archipelago. It is a small tree, rarely growing to a foot in diameter. Its wood, as you know, is highly prized on account of its agreeable fragrant smell; and because this fragrance not only keeps it from decaying, but also preserves any material, such as clothes, silk, and other articles that may be in contact with it, from insects or rust. In consequence of this quality of the sandal-wood, it is in great demand for making boxes, cabinets, and such articles of furniture; and, on account of its agreeable odour, it is also manufactured into fans and necklaces which command high prices.

"The Brahmins use it in their sacrifices to the G.o.d Vishnu, to scent the oil employed in the ceremony."

"Are there not two kinds of sandal-wood?" inquired Klaas. "Sister Wilhelmina has a box of it and a necklace, too. They were brought from India by Uncle, but they are very different. The box is white, and the beads of the necklace are of a beautiful yellow colour--maybe they are dyed."

"No," answered Hans, "they are not dyed. There _are_ two kinds, white sandal-wood and the yellow sort, and it has been said that they were the produce of different trees. This is not the case, however. Although there is more than one species of _Santalum_ that produces the sandal-wood of commerce, the white and yellow kinds are taken from the same tree. The reason of the difference is, that towards the heart of the tree where the wood is older, and especially down near the root, the colour is of a deep yellow; whereas the young wood that lies outwardly is nearly white. The yellow part is harder, more fragrant, and, of course, more valuable.

"When these trees are felled for their wood, the bark is at once stripped off and the trunk buried for nearly two months--which strengthens its odour, and renders it more agreeable."

While Hans was giving these interesting details, the others took out their knives; and each cutting a branch from the sandal-tree, applied it to his nose, and then tasted it.

But, though they could perceive its fragrant smell, they found it perfectly insipid to the taste. Hans said it was so with the _Santalum alb.u.m_ or true sandal-wood of India--that, notwithstanding its sweet perfume, it is quite tasteless.

He further informed them that the name "sandal-wood" is not derived from the use to which the wood is sometimes put--that of making _sandals_.

On the contrary, these derive their name from the wood itself. The true derivation of the word is from the Persian "sandul," which signifies useful, in relation to the valuable qualities of the timber. The sandal-wood of the Sandwich Islands, added Hans, is procured from two species different from _Santalum alb.u.m_.

The yagers, having now rested a sufficient time, again faced up the mountain, and in fifteen minutes after stood upon its top.