The gun-man, of course, caught sight of it, and even made an attempt to
capture it as it floated past, but without avail. It served, however, to
prepossess his mind with the idea that Bob had been swept away by the
river, so that when, after a careful examination of the tiny cove, he
came to the trail leading into the water, he was prepared to believe
that the young man had been carried off his feet in an attempt to wade
out past the cliff. He even picked up a branch, with which he poked at
the bottom. A short and narrow rock projection favoured his hypothesis,
for it might very well happen that merely an experimental venture on so
slanting and slippery a footing would prove fatal. Saleratus Bill
examined again for footprints emerging; threw his branch into the river,
and watched the direction of its course; and then, for the first time,
slipped the worn and shiny old revolver into its holster. He spent
several moments more reexamining the cove, glanced again at the river,
and finally disappeared, wading slowly back around the sunken ledge.
Bob's next task was to regain solid land. For some minutes he sat
astride the boulder, estimating the force and directions of the current.
Pages:
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843