“It’s an awful size!” Carline admitted, looking around over his shoulder, and Terabon watched the face.
“Are you a river man?” the visitor asked.
“No. My father was a big farmer, and he made some money when they put a railroad through one of his places.”
“Just tripping down to see the river?”
“No-o—well––” Carline hesitated, looking overside at the water.
“That must be Wolf Island over there?” the reporter suggested.
Carline looked at the island. He looked down the main river and over toward the chute toward which the Columbus bluffs had shunted them. Then he started the motor and steered into the main channel to escape the rippling shoals which flickered in the sunshine ahead of them, past an island sandbar.
“I don’t know if it’s Wolf Island.” Carline shook his head. “I’m looking for somebody—somebody who came down this way.”
The traveller waited. He looked across the current to the bluffs now passing up stream, Columbus and all.
“I don’t suppose you find very much to write about, coming down?” Carline changed his mind.