"It's a mesa," replied Ned with renewed enthusiasm, "and it will be
a good thing to look over it to-morrow. These high and almost
unapproachable islands of rock were favorite dwelling places for the
Indians."
"But a temple up here wouldn't be a secret very long," replied Alan.
"We've seen this point all afternoon. It's prominent enough."
"That's so," answered Ned, "but we are here, so let's make a landing
and eat, and dream over it."
The balloon had now lost so much gas that a landing was easy, and,
tired with four days' profitless search and its strain, the young
aeronauts were soon beyond even dreams.
It was with no small alarm that the boys saw, when they awoke with
the first rays of the sun, that the car of the Cibola, which had
been anchored fore and aft to heaped up rocks during the night, was
now resting on the ground. Gas, was rapidly escaping. But fortunately
the aeroplanes and propeller had been left properly in a horizontal
position and no damage had been done.
The boys knew that by throwing over enough ballast and stores the
Cibola could be made good for one more flight, but that probably it
would be the last.
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