"Lit out while you were taking off your boots." Thirlwell imagined that the roar of the river had drowned the fellow's steps, but he did not want to talk, about Driscoll yet, and when he put on his boots, which had been full of water, they started for the shack.
After they had changed their clothes Scott sat down and lighted his pipe.
"What do you think was the matter with Black Steve ?" he asked.
"It looked as if he'd taken some liquor, but I don't know," Thirlwell answered.

"He was obviously scared." "Sure," said Scott.

"But he wasn't scared of getting drowned.

Steve's a better canoe hand than either of us and has physical pluck." "Then why was he afraid ?" Scott looked thoughtful.

"I imagine he was afraid of the rapid and the dark.