A sea—a glorious azure sea—with dancing waves and white flecked foam rolled merrily in and out on wonderful white sands. There were rocks and caves, and velvety grass slopes along the sea shore; babbling brooks merged into the blue, blue waters; tall lilies, virginal white, mingled with roses, red like wine, and grew in clusters at the water’s edge. All was nature at her best—unspoiled by man.
Wooded islets were dotted about in still more wonderful bays; birds white as snow, birds with plumage rainbow-hued floated idly on the waters, and added to the picturesque beauty. They could see little buildings nestling among the trees here and there, buildings that, like the châlets of Switzerland, only added to the beauty of the scene.
The airship had stopped suddenly, and they were unable to move her, and still they hovered over the wonderful land. Sea—sky—both of a most glorious blue; the verdure of this new land was green—“The same as our world,” murmured Alan.
“But with what a difference,” whispered Sir John.
“I never knew what the sea was until now,” said Alan. “I never realized what ‘colour’ was—what blue or green meant, until I looked down yonder.”
New life was born in the three men. “I’ll call Desmond,” said Alan. Mavis was lying as he had left her—white, inert, silent. “Leave her,” he told his cousin. “She will be quite safe; but we’ve news at last—we are in sight of land.”
When he reached the bows again, he saw they had dropped a few hundred feet, and were now well below the summit of the mountains.
Below them, in a fertile valley, they saw what they thought were six giant birds running along a field. They rose, soared straight up, and flew directly toward the Argenta. They were like swans with outstretched wings, and necks like swans; but never had they seen birds of such a monstrous size.
“They are as big as a small plane,” said Sir John wonderingly.
“By Jove, I believe that’s what they are,” said Alan.