At noon Ned said:
"If we were not in a balloon with a compass and sextant I should say
we were lost. And if Indians ever lived and died hereabouts they
certainly left so signs of their bones."
By six O'clock, with the sun gratefully low, Alan expressed
discouragement.
"To-morrow at this time," he said, "if we see no indication of the
old palace or city or whatever it was--if it ever was--I think I'll
vote to try to find Camp Eagle and get out."
"We'll see to-morrow," answered Ned stoutly.
That night at dark, a landing was made on the ledge of a point of
land ending in a rounded cliff pointing south, selected because the
place was open to the breeze and cool. The Cibola had approached
the height from the west, and the boys believed that the promontory
projected from yet higher ground beyond. On those portions of the
cliff that they could see there was neither shelf nor projection of
any kind. The walls rose almost like cut stone and were apparently
about three hundred feet high. As the Cibola was about to descend,
Alan, who was taking a last survey from the bridge, called Ned's
attention to the fact that even the far side of the supposed
promontory was separated from the mountains beyond, and that a chasm
at least a half mile wide separated the two heights.
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