The kite had alighted, just where they wanted it.
But now arose the question--would it stay there?
In other words, would it be caught among the rocks, and hold fast?
If not, they would have to fly it again and again, until it should get fastened above, or until the experiment should prove a failure.
Karl stepped forward to decide the point--the others looking on with an eagerness of glance, that betrayed how deep was their interest in the result.
Karl's hand trembled as he laid hold of the cord.

At first he pulled upon it in a gentle way--hand over hand--so as merely to take in the slack.
At length it began to tighten, requiring greater strength to take it in: as if the kite was still free, and dragging over the snow.
This produced anything but a pleasant anticipation; and as the rope came to hand, foot after foot, and yard after yard, a shadow, that had stolen over the countenances of all three, became sensibly darker.
Only for a short while did this shadow remain.

It vanished, more suddenly than it had arisen: when they saw the running cord become abruptly checked, and then tighten as Karl continued to draw it in.

He pulled upon it, at first exerting only a part of his strength, as if afraid that it might again come loose.

After awhile, gaining confidence, he pulled with all his power.