"I wish I had an ice cream soda, I know that," said Roy.
"Careful how you step ashore now," Tom said.
"Terra cotta at last," said Roy; "I mean terra firma."
"Jump it," called Hervey, who was behind Roy.
Thus, emerging from a peril, which none but Tom had fully realized, they found themselves on the comparatively low shore of the cove. The tree, itself a victim of the storm, poked its branches up out of the black water like specters, which seemed the more grewsome as they swayed in the wind. These had guided the little party to shore.
So it was that that once stately denizen of the lofty forest had paused here to make a last stand against the storm which had uprooted it. So it was that this fallen monarch, friend of the scouts, had contrived to check somewhat the mad rush of water out of their beloved lake, and had guided four of them to safety.