Mr. Jonstone's teeth began to chatter very steadily and loudly. And just then Maud raised herself a little, craned her neck, and had a glimpse of the shore--a long, half-submerged point, almost but not quite obliterated by the fog and the splashing rain. "Land ho!" said she joyfully. "All's well. There's a big shallow off here; we'll be able to wade in a minute." And, indeed, in less than a minute Bob Jonstone's feet found the hard sand bottom. And in a very short time three shipwrecked mariners had waded ashore and dragged the guide boat into a clump of bushes. "And now what?" asked Colonel Meredith. "And now," said Maud, "the luck has changed. Half a mile from here is a cave where we used to have picnics. There's an axe there, matches, and probably a tin of cigarettes, and possibly things to eat. It's all up-hill from here, and if you two follow me and keep up, you'll be warm before we get there." Her wet clothes clung to her, and she went before them like some swift woodland goddess. Their spirits rose, and with them their voices, so that the deer and other animals of the neighboring woods were disturbed and annoyed in the shelters which they had chosen from the rain. Sometimes Maud ran; sometimes she merely moved swiftly; but now and then while the way was still among the dense waterside alders, she broke her way through with fine strength, reckless of scratches. The following Carolinians began to worship the ground she trod and to stumble heavily upon it. They were not used to walking. It had always been their custom to go from place to place upon horses. They panted aloud. They began to suspect themselves of heart trouble, and they had one heavy fall apiece. Suddenly Maud came to a dead stop. "I smell smoke," she said. "Some one is here before us. That's good luck, too." She felt her way along the face of a great bowlder and was seen to enter the narrow mouth of a cave. "Who's here?" she called cheerfully. The passageway into the cave twisted like the letter S so that you came suddenly upon the main cavity. This--a space as large as a ball-room--had a smooth floor of sand, broken by one or two ridges of granite. At the farther end burned a bright fire, most of whose smoke after slow, aimless drifting was strongly sucked upward through a hole in the roof. Closely gathered about this fire were four men, who looked like rather dissolute specimens of the Adirondack guide, and a young woman with an old face. Maud's quick eyes noted two rusty Winchester rifles, a leather mail-bag, and the depressing fact that the men had not shaved for many days. It is always awkward to enter your own private cave and find it occupied by strangers. "You mustn't mind," said Maud, smiling upon them, "if we share the fire. It's really our cave and our fire-wood." "Sorry, miss," said one of the men gruffly, "but when it comes on to rain like this a man makes bold of any shelter that offers."