"It's nice to loaf along like this too," I said, "after sliding down hill at forty miles an hour for several hundred miles."
"Better get all our wet duds out," put in Jim, "and hang them in the rigging until they get dry."
We did this and then we took it easy for several hours. I laid down on the deck with my head on one of the saddles gazing up into the blue sky and basking in the sun.
We felt like sailors who have been through days of storm and who run into a calm in which they can sit on deck and mend their clothes and absorb the sun into their frozen systems.
We had the whole afternoon of this restful drifting and made a good camp in a comparatively open place.
"Let's climb to the top of the cliffs and have a look out," proposed Jim.
It was not particularly hard and we enjoyed having a chance to climb once more. In an hour we reached the top.
"What a splendid view," cried Jim.
It certainly was. The mountains that we had seen first in the distance, stood out with clear distinctness in their marvelous symmetry and sharp outlines, but robed in a mystery of blue enchantment. We saw nearer to us the wide landscape of the plateau land.