Of course we had looked at the land itself--eagerly, but we were too high and going too fast to see much. It appeared to be well forested about the edges, but in the interior there were wide plains, and everywhere parklike meadows and open places. There were cities, too; that I insisted. It looked--well, it looked like any other country--a civilized one, I mean. We had to sleep after that long sweep through the air, but we turned out early enough next day, and again we rose softly up the height till we could top the crowning trees and see the broad fair land at our pleasure. “Semitropical. Looks like a first-rate climate. It’s wonderful what a little height will do for temperature.” Terry was studying the forest growth. “Little height! Is that what you call little?” I asked. Our instruments measured it clearly. We had not realized the long gentle rise from the coast perhaps. “Mighty lucky piece of land, I call it,” Terry pursued. “Now for the folks--I’ve had enough scenery.” So we sailed low, crossing back and forth, quartering the country as we went, and studying it. We saw--I can’t remember now how much of this we noted then and how much was supplemented by our later knowledge, but we could not help seeing this much, even on that excited day--a land in a state of perfect cultivation, where even the forests looked as if they were cared for; a land that looked like an enormous park, only it was even more evidently an enormous garden. “I don’t see any cattle,” I suggested, but Terry was silent. We were approaching a village. I confess that we paid small attention to the clean, well-built roads, to the attractive architecture, to the ordered beauty of the little town. We had our glasses out; even Terry, setting his machine for a spiral glide, clapped the binoculars to his eyes. They heard our whirring screw. They ran out of the houses--they gathered in from the fields, swift-running light figures, crowds of them. We stared and stared until it was almost too late to catch the levers, sweep off and rise again; and then we held our peace for a long run upward. “Gosh!” said Terry, after a while. “Only women there--and children,” Jeff urged excitedly. “But they look--why, this is a _civilized_ country!” I protested. “There must be men.” “Of course there are men,” said Terry. “Come on, let’s find ’em.” He refused to listen to Jeff’s suggestion that we examine the country further before we risked leaving our machine. “There’s a fine landing place right there where we came over,” he insisted, and it was an excellent one--a wide, flat-topped rock, overlooking the lake, and quite out of sight from the interior. “They won’t find this in a hurry,” he asserted, as we scrambled with the utmost difficulty down to safer footing. “Come on, boys--there were some good lookers in that bunch.” Of course it was unwise of us.