The rain made it difficult to see for any distance, but it was evident that desolation lay before us. Still, we were prepared for that and not discouraged. The steaming water was an evidence that the water's temperature was higher than that of the air. We had no way of determining what the exact temperature was, but I am sure it did not become high enough in that region to destroy marine life. We stood for some time looking out over the ocean in silence. "It's sure dreary looking," said Jim presently. "I suppose they were all drowned," sweeping his hand in the direction of the settlements we had left. "I'd got to know them well enough so I liked them all," he continued rather sadly. "No use thinking about it," I answered. "They at least had a gorgeous funeral. It isn't at all certain yet that we're much better off." "Why? We're alive." I had been looking west, over valleys and hills steaming like the ocean. I pointed in that direction. "We don't know whether there is anything left except ocean and some land like that. I doubt whether we could subsist very long here." "There must be animals of some sort we could hunt." "How long will they live, do you suppose? As soon as these clouds clear away the temperature will go up to an enormous figure, with the sun beating down continuously and no night." "How hot do you suppose it will get?" "You can guess about it as well as I can. A hundred and fifty degrees, maybe higher. Certainly hot enough to kill all animal and vegetable life." * * * * * Off to a New Land The tragedy seemed so overwhelming, as I stood on that sandstone cliff and looked out over the water which had buried Newfoundland and Nova Scotia and, as far as I knew, the whole civilized world, that it hardly seemed worth-while for Jim and me to make an effort to survive. He looked at me curiously. "Buck up, old boy. Things can't be any worse than they seem, and they may be better. We can die fighting, anyway." "I suppose we'll have to do that, but it hardly seems worth the effort." I thought over the situation for a moment. "I guess the first thing to do is to get the plane in condition to take off as soon as it stops raining. We'll fly toward the pole." "Maybe we'll find some other people who escaped," he suggested. "Probably," I replied as we started back to the plane. I taxied up the gently sloping top of the mountain to a position where we would have room for the take-off. Then we went over it inch by inch without finding anything wrong. I tuned up the engine and it ran as smoothly as a tabby cat purring. We had food enough for several weeks and fuel to carry us about fifteen hundred miles.