“I don’t believe he went in there,” said Agnes with finality, after standing as if trance-bound for a long time, gazing after the foam-white river as it roared into the echoing depths.
“No,” Walker agreed. “He had too much sense for that.”
They were all cheered and lightened by this conclusion. A daylight study of the terrors of the place was sufficient to convince anybody that a man would have to be driven to desperate lengths before he would venture for the dubious reward or narrow notoriety to be gained by following that wild river through its dark way. 130
“I camped over at the other side one summer,” Walker told them as they turned away to go back to Comanche, “and I used to pick up things that had come through–boards and things that people had dropped in over at Meander. It pounds things up, I tell you!”
“Did you ever pick up any gold on the other side?” asked June.
“I never found a trace of any,” said Walker. “I think that’s all a sheep-herder’s yarn.”
They saw one of the police force in conversation with Mrs. Reed in front of the tent as they drew near, and hastened forward in the hope that he had brought news of the missing man. Mrs. Reed received them with shocked expression, and a gesture of the hands denoting hopelessness for the salvation of the world.
“It’s scandalous!” she declared.
The policeman, a carpenterly looking man full of sandy hairs, stood by, grinning.
“What is it, Mother?” asked June.