“About me killing Plant?” supplied Pollock tranquilly.  “No.  A man don’t ask about those things.”

“Not even to Jim?”

“No.  We just sort of took all that for granted.”

“Well, that would be all right.  Then if they’re called on the stand, they can tell nothing.  There are at least no witnesses to the deed itself.”

“There’s you——­” suggested George.

Bob brought up short in his train of reasoning.

“But you won’t testify agin me?”

“There’s no reason why I should be called.  Nobody even knows I was out of bed at that time.  If my name happens to be mentioned—­which isn’t at all likely—­Auntie Belle or a dozen others will volunteer that I was in bed, like the rest of the town.  There’s no earthly reason to connect me with it.”

“But if you are called?” persisted the mountaineer.

“Then I’ll have to tell the truth, of course,” said Bob soberly; “it’ll be under oath, you know.”

Pollock looked at him strangely askant.

“I didn’t much look to hear you talk that-a-way,” said he.

“George,” said Bob, “this will take money.  Have you any?”

“I’ve some,” replied the mountaineer sulkily.

“How much?”

“A hundred dollars or so.”

“Not enough by a long patch.  You must let me help you on this.”

“I don’t need no help,” said Pollock.

“You let me help you once before,” Bob reminded him gently, “if it was only to hold a horse.”

“By God, that’s right!” burst out George Pollock, “and I’m a fool!  If they call you on the stand, don’t you lie under oath for me!  I don’t believe you’d do it for yourself; and that’s what I’m going to do for myself.  I reckon I’ll just plead guilty!”

“Don’t be in a hurry,” Bob warned him.  “It isn’t a matter to go off half-cock on.  Any man would have done what you did.  I’d have done it myself.  That’s why I stood by you.  I’m not sure you aren’t right to take advantage of what the law can do for you.  Plenty do just that with only the object of acquiring other people’s dollars.  I don’t say it’s right in theory; but in this case it may be eternally right in practice.  Go slow on deciding.”

“You’re sure a good friend, Bobby,” said Pollock simply.

“Whatever you decide, don’t even mention my name to any one,” warned Bob.  “We don’t want to get me connected with the case in any man’s mind.  Hardly let on you remember to have known me.  Don’t overdo it though.  You’ll want a real good lawyer.  I’ll find out about that.  And the money—­how’ll we fix it?”

George thought for a moment.

“Fix it with Jack,” said he at length.  “He’ll stay put.  Tell him not to tell his own father.  He won’t.  He’s reliable.”

“Sure?”

“Well, I’m risking my neck on it.”

“I’ll simply tell him the name of the lawyer,” decided Bob, “and get him actual cash.”