“Nothing at all,” was the reply. “We charge visitors two dollars each when we attend them through the whole walk; but, under the circumstances, we won’t charge you any thing.”
“I am willing to pay, if——”
“No, no; not a cent. If any one ought to pay, I ought to pay you ten dollars for the privilege of seeing you go down there. You are the first and only one-legged man that ever ventured into the Cave of the Winds.”
I returned to my hotel, took a lemonade, changed my clothes, imbibed another lemonade, took dinner, then another lemonade, and was about to start for the river again, when the host said:
“Are you going to see Leslie walk the rope?”
“Walk the rope? Where?” I queried.
“Just below the railroad bridge—the large suspension bridge, two miles below.”
“At what time?”
“Four o’clock. You will have an hour or two yet to get there.”
“I will go, by all means,” I said, much delighted at this opportunity. “I thank you for mentioning it.”