"Something seems to have gone wrong either with our calculations
or the chronometer," I said. Perry shook his head--there was a
strange expression in his eyes.

"Let's have a look beyond that door, David," he cried.

Together we stepped out to stand in silent contemplation of a
landscape at once weird and beautiful. Before us a low and level
shore stretched down to a silent sea. As far as the eye could reach
the surface of the water was dotted with countless tiny isles--some
of towering, barren, granitic rock--others resplendent in gorgeous
trappings of tropical vegetation, myriad starred with the magnificent
splendor of vivid blooms.

Behind us rose a dark and forbidding wood of giant arborescent
ferns intermingled with the commoner types of a primeval tropical
forest. Huge creepers depended in great loops from tree to tree,
dense under-brush overgrew a tangled mass of fallen trunks and
branches. Upon the outer verge we could see the same splendid
coloring of countless blossoms that glorified the islands, but
within the dense shadows all seemed dark and gloomy as the grave.

And upon all the noonday sun poured its torrid rays out of a
cloudless sky.

"Where on earth can we be?" I asked, turning to Perry.

For some moments the old man did not reply. He stood with bowed
head, buried in deep thought. But at last he spoke.