"I ain't forgot what that elephant done."
"Don't let it worry you, grouchy," and the boys waved their hands toward the disgusted Dugan.
The "Spray" was a fast boat, and with a strong, favorable wind, cut through the water at a rapid rate.
The dark firs on Hemlock and the crags of Promontory Island, began to loom up clear and distinct. It was exhilarating sport, and, as the water foamed and gurgled and occasionally dashed over the gunwale, the boys began to sing.
"This is great," exclaimed Tom Clifton, at length. "We'll have a dandy race, if Fenton comes over."
"We ought to give him a handicap."
"Sure thing. The 'Dauntless' isn't a patch on the 'Spray' for speed."
In a short time, the "Spray" dashed into the passageway beneath the towering crags. Emerging on the other side, they sailed past the site of the former "Idleman's Club" and continued on until a picturesque cove appeared in view.
"Ease over the sheet, Phil," said Sam. "That's right. Haul it down when I say the word."
In a sheltered situation, the "Spray" glided smoothly over the limpid water and entered the cove. At Sam's command, the sail was lowered and an anchor heaved overboard. The boat came to a stop within a few feet of a jutting bank, where the water was so clear that the pebbly bottom could be plainly seen.