“Well, I should say Walker’s rather,” he corrected. “I only concurred weakly along toward the end. Walker has held out all the time that Slavens went out to hold a celebration all by himself.”
“No; he didn’t do that,” said she calmly. “I thought so for a little while this morning, too. But I know he didn’t. Do you suppose––”
She stopped, as if considering something too extravagant to utter.
“Suppose?” he repeated.
“He talked a good deal about going into the cañon to clear up the mystery of that newspaperman and earn the reward,” said she.
Bentley shook his head.
“He’d hardly start at night and without preparation.”
“He seemed to be a man of peculiar moods. If it came over him suddenly and strongly in an hour of depression he might even go to that desperate length. He believed the difficulties of the cañon were largely exaggerated, anyhow. Once he told me that he would undertake to go through it with nothing more than a pair of moccasins and a lantern. It was his theory that a man would need the moccasins for clinging to the rocks.”
“It’s a queer notion,” said Bentley reflectively. 127
“Do you think––” she began, halting her words again and looking at him with distended eyes.