“Then, how do you know that those so-called bottomless holes exist?” “I suppose it’s tradition,” said Oliver. “I have heard of animals—such as horses and cattle—sinking out of sight. My father has often told me of such things.” “Maybe he was just scaring you, so’s you’d keep out of the swamp.” “Well, he scared me all right.” “You are a trained civil engineer, I understand.” “Yes.” “And you’ve never gone out there to satisfy yourself whether those pits are real or just something people like to talk about?” “I’ve never been out beyond that row of posts you see over there,” said Oliver, pointing. “I had a wire fence stretched along those posts last spring, Mr. Malone. You are at liberty to go as far out as you please, however.” “I shall,” said Malone crisply. “I am an old hand at this business. I don’t believe such a thing exists as a bottomless pit. Before I get through with this job, you will find, Mr. Baxter, that there isn’t a spot in that slough out there that is more than six or eight feet deep. Of course, that is deep enough to bury a man, or a horse or a cow. So, you needn’t expect me to step into every mud puddle I come across out there, just to see if it’s over my shoe tops. Now, just where was it that you and your father parted company that night? As I understand it, you and he sat for some time on that log over there. It was a clear night and the road was very dusty. There had been no rain in over three weeks. Am I right?” Oliver stared at him in amazement. The other detective had turned down the slope and was striding off toward the nearest ditch. “You seem to be pretty well posted,” said he, his eyes narrowing. “Well, I am an inquisitive sort of cuss,” drawled Malone. “And I’m not what you’d call an idle person.” “Who told you we were sitting on that log? I don’t remember ever having mentioned it. As a matter of fact, I’d forgotten it completely. We did sit there for ten or fifteen minutes. That was before we began to quarrel. Then we got up and walked on a little farther down the road. To the bend on ahead about fifty yards. We stood there arguing for nearly half an hour. I left him standing there. I went on to Mr. Sage’s. But who told you we sat on that log?” “If you don’t mind, I’ll not answer that question,” said Malone. “You asked me a while ago if I had seen Pete Hines that night. Was it Pete Hines?”