Harker laughed. He was leaning by the cabin port, looking out at the
cliffs. The grey granite looked clean above the swamp. Harker tried
to pierce the clouds that hid the top, but couldn't. His dark eyes
narrowed. The heated voices behind him faded into distance. Suddenly he
turned and said, "Sir, I'd like permission to see what's at the top of
those cliffs."
There was complete silence. Then Gibbons said slowly, "We've lost
too many men on journeys like that before, only to find the plateau
uninhabitable."
"There's always the chance. Our first settlement was in the high
plateaus, remember. Clean air, good soil, no fever."
"I remember," Gibbons said. "I remember." He was silent for a while,
then he gave Harker a shrewd glance. "I know you, Matt. I might as
well give permission."
* * * * *
Harker grinned. "You won't miss me much anyhow. I'm not a good
influence any more." He started for the door. "Give me three weeks.
You'll take that long to careen and scrape the bottoms anyhow. Maybe
I'll come back with something."