The air was comparatively still, and a mass of clouds hung low over the mountains. Looking out into the darkness, the boys could see no sign of light anywhere. Their own lights were sheltered as much as possible, but they knew that they might be seen a great distance. Kit proposed putting out the acetylene lights entirely, but Jimmie insisted that it was so dark they might bump into a mountain without seeing it!
“Much good that short space of light would do us,” Kit replied. “We’d be into the rocks almost before the light struck them.”
“Then we’ll go slower and higher up,” Jimmie declared.
The machine continued to rise until a faint radiance began to seep through the heavy clouds with which the boys were surrounded. In another minute the stars shone down upon them, and the field of mist lay far below.
Jimmie had frequently looked out upon such scenes before, but to Kit it was all very wonderful. The clouds below looked like waves rolling and tossing on a summer sea. As far as the eye could reach there were only the white undulations which shut out the light of the stars from below.
The boys were going very slowly now, lifting with every yard traveled and watching intently for the lights of the Louise.
Presently they came to a break in the field of clouds below and looked down upon the surging waters of the Pacific ocean. They had no idea that they were so far to the west, but Jimmie took advantage of the incident to look down upon the southern promontory off which the schooner had stood on the previous night.
The beacon was still there and the schooner was still there. In a moment the clouds closed in again and the boys moved away to the east.
The boys circled about for an hour or more, and then, weary of remaining so long in one position, dropped down to a peak which, far above the clouds, glimmered in the light of the rising moon.
“We can see from here just as well as from the seats,” Kit suggested, “and we may as well get all the rest we can.”