"Probably Tennessee or northern Alabama. See the change in vegetation? No conifers here, but many palms and fern-trees, and new, strange growths. Fertile isn't the name for it! Once we clear some land here, crops will grow themselves! I don't think we'll do better than this, Beta. Shall we land and see?"
A quarter-hour later the Pauillac had safely deposited them on a high, rocky plateau about half a mile back from the edge of the river canyon. Stern, in his eagerness, was all for cave-hunting that very evening, but the girl restrained him.
"Not so impatient, dear!" she cautioned. "'Too fast arrives as tardy as too slow!' To-morrow's time enough."
"Ruling me with quotations from Shakespeare, eh?" he laughed, with a kiss. "All right, have your way--Mrs. Stern!"
She laughed, too, at this, the first time she had heard her new name. So they made camp and postponed further labors till daylight again.
Morning found them early astir and at work. Together they traversed the tropic-seeming woods, aflame with brilliant flowers, dank with ferns and laced with twining lianas.
In the treetops--strange trees, fruit laden--parrakeets and flashing green and crimson birds of paradise disturbed the little monkey-folk that chattered at the intruders. Once a coral-red snake whipped away, hissing, but not quick enough to dodge a ball from Stern's revolver.
Stern viewed the ugly, triangular head with apprehension. Well he knew that venom dwelt there, but he said nothing. The one and only chance of successfully transplanting the Folk must be to regions warm as these. All dangers must be braved a time till they could grow acclimated to the upper air. After that--but the vastness of the future deterred even speculation. Perils were inevitable. The more there were to overcome the greater the victory.
"On to the cliffs!" said he, clasping the girl's hand in his own and making a path for her.
Thus presently they reached the edge of the canyon.
"Magnificent!" cried Beatrice as they came out on the overhang of the rock wall. "With these fruitful woods behind, that river in front, and these natural fortifications for our home, what more could we want?"
"Nothing except caves," Stern answered. "Let's call this New Hope River, eh? And the cliffs?"
"Settlement Cliffs!" she exclaimed.
"Done! Well, now let's see."
For the better part of the morning they explored the face of the palisade. Its height, they estimated, ranged from two to three hundred feet, shelving down in rough terraces to the rocky debris through and beyond which foamed the strong current of New Hope River, a stream averaging about two hundred yards in width.