I steered so as to come to a stop nearly in the center of the lake which proved to be an ellipse of deep water about half a mile long and a couple of hundred yards across.
The fact of coming to a stop, after our flight, brought a certain relief in itself, regardless of the situation about us. The rush of wind, at the rate of three hundred miles an hour, was ceased; the airscrew was silent; we had the feeling of firm water below us; and communication between Pete and myself, impossible when we were flying, suddenly existed again.
Pete let himself down, as he looked around; once more, as when we had been at sea, he stood upon my float.
"Quite a place," he said to me. "Quite a place." And he took off his goggles to have a better view of it.
"That wasn't the girl," I said to Pete. "You saw what it was?"
