Babe led the party toward one of the edges of the plateau where the cable car rested, a hundred feet or so from the cliff. Its overhead cable extended out as far as Jim could see into the deep country.
When all were aboard, one of the tourists, weighted down with camera equipment, asked, “When are we leaving, Chief? Right away? I can’t wait to get this terrific scenery down on film! Isn’t this a fabulous place!”
The man was Mr. Benjamin, one of the more enthusiastic travelers.
“We’re leaving just as soon as we get the rear jet firing,” Babe told him. He led Jim into the foremost of two Plexiglas-enclosed drivers’ quarters that were located at each end of the car.
Jim saw that only a single lever was used to control the cable car. There was a radio set for contact with the space harbor if this were necessary.
Babe turned on the ignition and shoved the lever. The car began gliding over the ground toward the edge of the precipice. “A child can run this,” he said. “One jet behind to push us forward, one in front to slow us down.”
Jim felt his knees go weak in tingling anticipation as the car swung out into empty space, with only its slender overhead cable as a support for forty people. Babe presently let Jim try the control lever. Jim could hear the hollow swoosh of the rear jet as it shot the car along, and he could hear the singing of the cable as the car rolled smoothly on its fine overhead bearings.
“We seem to be going uphill,” Jim commented.
“We are,” Babe said. “We’re heading for Point Luna, which is a thousand feet higher than where we started.”
“I don’t see how they ever got this cable in place,” Jim said.