Heavy trails of cloud drifted across the sandy floor, Doubtless the morning was still young, and this mist might later be dissolved.
It was quite cold here, although this was the first day of August.

I concluded therefore that we must be far in the north, or else high above sea-level.

We must still be somewhere on the New Continent; though where, it was impossible to surmise.

Yet no matter how rapid our flight had been, the air-ship could not have traversed either ocean in the dozen hours since our departure from Niagara.
At this moment, I saw the captain come from an opening in the rocks, probably a grotto, at the base of this cliff hidden in the fog.
Occasionally, in the mists above, appeared the shadows of huge birds.
Their raucous cries were the sole interruption to the profound silence.

Who knows if they were not affrighted by the arrival of this formidable, winged monster, which they could not match either in might or speed.
Everything led me to believe that it was here that the Master of the World withdrew in the intervals between his prodigious journeys.