"I'm not expecting to find the white car, but I want to discover how it managed to vanish like it did."
Carl shook his head gruesomely. He was still half-inclined to credit the runabout with "shpook" proclivities, and Matt's new plan didn't appeal to him very powerfully.
When they came to the chasm they paused to note how the road, in reaching its treacherous path along the edge, broke suddenly from a straight line into a sharp curve. Certainly it was a bad place for motoring.
In order to get to the top of the cliff that edged the road on the right, the boys had to do some hard climbing; but when they were on the crest of the uplift, the view that stretched out around them was ample reward for their toil.
On their left they could look down on the ribbon of road, winding between the foot of the cliff and the chasm; and on their right they looked away toward a swale, which made the cliff-tops a sort of divide.
"Dot gulch down dere," shuddered Carl, looking over the cliff, "iss more as a million feed teep, I bed you."
"I don't know about that," said Matt, "but it's deep enough."
"Oof Verral hat dumpled from dot push," went on Carl, "he vould haf gone clear py China."
"That swale," said Matt, pointing in the other direction, "is where the gully enters the hills. As the gully runs on toward Lamy it comes closer and closer to the cliff trail."
He turned and looked behind him.