This program was duly carried out without the slightest difficulty. The friendly tongue of high land proved all they could have hoped for and Jack readily drove his boat around its tip, to bring up further on where the ground rose to its maximum height.
“Looks okay to me, Perk,” he called out as he stopped his motor.
“Couldn’t well be bettered I’d say, partner.”
“Then drop the mudhook, and see what kind of holding bottom you get,” Jack told his mate which Perk proceeded to do without loss of time.
Thus they found themselves apparently sheltered in safety behind a barrier that should hold back the riotous winds as well as the waves that would soon be beating heavily against it. With the cabin for shelter they would not have anything to complain about, unless the storm should turn into a regular cyclone and Jack could hardly conceive such a thing possible away out there on the shore of Great Salt Lake, far removed from the hurricane districts of the Mexican Gulf.
XI
A STORMY NIGHT
By this time the forerunners of the gale had arrived with considerable electrical display and reverberating thunder. Of course the two flyers had removed their ear-phones since the motor lay silent and the whirlwind propeller had also ceased to spin around with incalculable speed but when the thunder began to roar at its loudest they found it necessary to shout in order to make themselves heard.
“Say, promises to be some screecher, b’lieve me!” was the way Perk put it when an extraordinarily loud crash almost burst their eardrums, the preceding flash having seared their eyes and nearly blinded them.
“Some fireworks for a fact,” conservative Jack admitted frankly, “didn’t reckon on such an exhibition so soon. But see here, Perk——”
“Yeah!” snapped the other, showing his readiness to act if anything was needed along the order of further security from the rain that was now drenching the shore line as if a cloud had burst.