“That’s Snake Island all right,” agreed Jerry, “though I can’t say that the rocky tower in the center looks much like a serpent.”
“Maybe it does from some other view,” suggested Ned. “Then, too, there is no mist now. I’d rather believe the place got its name from that, than because there were snakes there. Well, are we going down, Jerry?”
“I guess so. I was just looking for a good place to make a landing. Let’s drop down to the lower end, and we can take our choice.”
As they sailed slowly down the length of the curious island they noted that it was about four miles long, and about half a mile in width. The river here was quite broad, contrary to the usual character of the Colorado, and a glimpse over the surrounding territory showed it to be so wild and desolate that it is doubtful if it had ever been visited by a white man.
The cliffs, too, at either side of the stream, where the island divided it, were so high, so rugged and precipitous, that it was positive that no one had ever descended them. And, had even the most daring explorer managed to get down, he never could have gotten up without a balloon. For that reason it was plain why the existence of the island was practically unknown.
“Well, I don’t see but what the upper end of the place is the best to land on,” remarked Ned, after a circuit had been made.
“Guess you’re right,” agreed Jerry. “We’ll go down there.”
The Comet was sent about, and, a little later, she began settling slowly down in the great chasm, at the bottom of which flowed the river.
It was getting well on in the afternoon, and the sun, sinking in the west, no longer cast its beams into the great gulf. There was a twilight darkness hovering over it, a stillness broken only by the murmur of the foaming river, that cast a spell of gloominess over our friends. For a time no one spoke, and then, as the airship was about to settle down on a smooth strip of sand, near the upper end of the river, Jerry exclaimed: