McGlory, time and again, held his breath, fearing that they were about to run upon the rocks; but, just as surely, time and again, the king of the motor boys turned the wheel and deep water remained under them.
"It's up to you fellows to tell me where to stop," said Matt.
"I'm watching for the place," replied Lorry, "but the shore line looks like a solid blur of shadow. I can't distinguish one point from another."
"Figure it out by dead-reckoning," suggested Matt. "You must have some idea, George, how far the cave is from the lake."
"Two miles, I should say."
"Then, at this speed, we've covered the two miles," and Matt shut off the power and let the boat's momentum carry her toward the bank.
The Sprite came to a halt with a slight jar, which proved that she had struck.
"That's all right," announced Matt, "and we're close enough to tie up. Never mind if we do get our feet wet; we're in luck to get out of that boathouse as well as we did."
"You can gamble the limit on that," answered McGlory, splashing ashore with the painter. "I'm a Digger, too, if this place don't look familiar to me, what little I can see of it."
"It's familiar to me, too," exulted Lorry. "Why, fellows, we're within a hundred feet of the cave! Talk about luck, will you? This lays over anything that ever came my way."