For the first time in his life
McGurk had missed. He set his teeth and waited for death.
But that steady voice of Pierre said: "To shoot you would be a
pleasure, but there wouldn't be any lasting satisfaction in it. So
there lies your gun at your feet. Well, here lies mine."
He dropped his own weapon to a position corresponding with that of
McGurk's.
"We were both very wild that time. We must do better now. We'll stoop
for our guns, McGurk. The signal? No, we won't wait for the horse to
stamp. The signal will be when you stoop for your gun. You shall have
every advantage, you see? Start for that gun, McGurk, when you're
ready for the end."
The hand of McGurk stretched out and his arm stiffened but it seemed
as though all the muscles of his back had grown stiff. He could not
bend. It was strange. It was both ludicrous and incomprehensible.
Perhaps he had grown stiff with cold in that position.
But he heard the voice of Pierre explaining gently: "You can't move,
my friend. I understand. It's fear that stiffened your back.
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