"Isn't this grand?" cried Bob. "See how fast we're leaving the shore. Where are you going to land us, Fenton?"
"On Promontory Island. But we have to go through the passageway and around on the other side."
It seemed but a short time before they were skirting the shore of Hemlock Island, while a little way off the more rugged sides of the other rose, in places, almost perpendicularly. Here and there, stunted growth struggled for existence, but the summit was crowned with a thick growth of trees. Hemlock Island was flat, and almost entirely wooded.
"Look alive, fellows!" warned Fenton, at length.
The boom swung around, the "Dauntless" shivered and shook, then, righting herself easily, sent the spray flying again, as she came about and headed for the passageway.
"What whopping big trees," cried Tom Clifton, admiringly, noticing the giants that rose here and there among the dark firs.
"Redwood," said Fenton. "This is a glorious country for trees and plant life generally. There are oaks in there, besides wild cherry and many other kinds. Of course some parts of the state are barren, with salt marshes and plains covered with sage-brush."
"Give me this part every time, then," said Bob. "Doesn't it look inviting in there, fellows? Imagine a nice little camp, and dinner under way."
"Wait until you see the other side of Promontory," put in Fenton; "it beats this all hollow."
At the proper time, the course of the boat was again changed slightly, and they entered a wide channel.