I dare say they would have done so, for they were all quite drunk by this time, if something had not happened.
"Poor Bob, who was almost as frightened as I was, and who lay shivering under the wagon, was killed by a shot by his own master, whose hand was the most unsteady of all.

He gave one loud howl, kicked convulsively, then turned over on his side and lay quite still.

It sobered them all.
They ran up to him, but he was quite dead.

They sat for a while quite silent, then they threw the rest of the bottles into the lake, dug a shallow grave for Bob, and putting me in the wagon drove slowly back to town.

They were not bad young men.