As the first shot rang out, Bob turned and seized again the
hair rope attached to Pollock's horse. His habit of rapid decision and
cool judgment showed him in a flash that he was too late to interfere,
and revealed to him what he must do.
Pollock, looking neither to the right nor the left, took the rope Bob
handed him and swung into the saddle. His calm had fallen from him. His
eyes burned and his face worked. With a muffled cry of pain he struck
spurs to his horse and disappeared.
Considerably shaken, Bob stood still, considering what he must do. It
was manifestly his duty to raise the alarm. If he did so, however, he
would have to bear witness to what he knew; and this, for George
Pollock's sake, he desired to avoid. He was the only one who could know
positively and directly and immediately how Plant had died. The sound of
the shots had not aroused the village. If they had been heard, no one
would have paid any attention to them; the discharge of firearms was too
common an occurrence to attract special notice. It was better to let the
discovery come in the natural course of events.
However, Bob was neither a coward nor a fool.
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