Kate stopped, and looked round to Tom with a scared, inquiring air.
"Pistols!" yelled Tom behind her.
At that the woman overpowered the heroine, and Kate hid her face and fell to trembling and wailing. Her wearied horse came down to a walk.
Presently up comes Tom.
"Don't lose your stomach for that," he panted out. "Gentlefolks do pop at one another all day sometimes, and no harm done."
"Oh, bless you!" cried Kate; "I may yet be in time."
She spurred her horse on. He did his best, but ere he had gone twenty yards he plunged into a cavity hidden by the snow.
While he was floundering there, crack went a single pistol, and the smoke rose and drifted over the hill-top.
"Who—op!" muttered Tom, with horrible sang-froid. "There's one done for this time. Couldn't shoot back, ye see."
At this horrible explanation Kate sank forward on her horse's mane as if she herself had been killed; and the smoke from the pistol came floating, thinner and thinner, and eddied high over her head.