“I’d like to see you find a place where you can land,” Carl shouted in his chum’s ear. “There’s nothing here but ridges and canyons, and rocks and rivers at the bottom!”
“Oh, we can find a place all right,” Jimmie answered.
It was some time before the boy found a spot which appeared to be in any way suitable for a landing. This was some distance to the east of the ridge which shut in the valley. The shelf he selected was rather high up, and that suited his purpose well, for, as he explained to Carl, they would have less mountain to climb in order to get a look into the camp.
The aeroplane landed with a bump which nearly threw the boys out of their seats, and when Jimmie sprang off and looked about he saw that one of the wheels was actually whirling round and round in the air, having passed off the rock. Below, five hundred feet down, the murmur of running water could be heard.
“Gee-whiz!” exclaimed Carl, when the position of the wheel was pointed out to him. “That was a close call! If the other wheel had run two feet farther, we’d have been dumped into the canyon.”
“But it didn’t run two feet farther!” Jimmie insisted. “I never saw any advantage in raising a mess of ifs,” he went on. “If the sun should drop down some night, the world would drop, too. But it doesn’t, so what’s the use?”
“What next?” asked Carl.
“You stay here and watch the machine and I’ll sneak over the ridge and crawl down to the camp. I’m curious to know why those fellows are showing those colored lights.”
“If you get too close to them, you may find out things that won’t do you any good.”
“Don’t croak!” advised Jimmie. “I’ll just go down there and see how many there are in the camp, and what they’re doing, and what they’re saying, and come right back!”