The valley seemed circular, and less than a quarter of a mile across. Trees and all sorts of vegetation grew in the richest profusion. Above, the cliffs were enveloped in the low, scudding clouds, and occasionally big drops of rain spattered about them.
The three came to a halt at the end of the valley. The rocky walls rose sheer from the water again, and all hope of escape in that direction was cut off. A little below them, on the other side of the river, they could see another green shore, but its extent could not be determined on account of the cliff which jutted in front.
"Might have been better if we'd landed there," said Dave, reflectively. "Look at that spur extending out into the stream."
"Maybe," admitted Bob. "Suppose we explore the rest of the valley."
At the end of half an hour, the boys looked at each other in dismay. Every nook and corner of the border line had been inspected, and a disheartening fact was forced upon them—the valley had no outlet.
"Bob, we're bottled up," said Sam, gloomily.
"An awful fix," murmured the captain, with sinking heart.
Dave glanced upward.
"Might as well think of trying to climb the sides of a house, Chubby," said Sam, despairingly. "Hang it—what's to be done?"
"Have lunch," answered the "poet." He pointed toward a mass of blackberry bushes. "Better than nothing," he added.