“Great gophers, boys, we are running right into 250 a nest of the rebels!” he whispered. “Back with you, before it is too late.”
They looked ahead and saw that the scout was right. They started to go back; and as they turned, a Mauser rang out and a bullet clipped the bushes beside them.
“Discovered!” came from Leroy’s lips. “Larry, I’m afraid the jig is up. Those Filipi—”
Crack! It was Boxer’s rifle that rang out, and as the scout was a sharpshooter, it may be taken for granted that he brought down his man. Then the three set off on a run along the side of the mountain to where a slight rise of ground promised better hiding.
“We can’t do much against such a crowd,” said the scout. “But in a good spot we can hold out awhile, provided one of you can use my pistol.”
“I can fire tolerably straight,” answered Leroy, and took the weapon. Soon the rise was gained, and they plunged in behind a tangle of pines. The Filipinos were following them, although taking good care not to expose themselves needlessly to the fire of such a crack marksman as Boxer had proved himself to be.
From behind the tangle of growth, the three 251 Americans watched the skilful advance of the enemy with dismay. “They are trying to surround us!” whispered Boxer. Then like a flash his rifle went up. The report was followed by a yell of pain, and a Filipino fell into view from behind a tree less than fifty yards distant. The poor fellow was hit in the side, but managed to crawl back into cover again, groaning dismally.
Leroy also fired, a second later, aiming at a tall Tagal who was crossing a clearing to their left. If he hit his mark, the rebel gave no sign, but the man disappeared in a great hurry. Then came a crashing through the bushes below and to the left, proving that the Filipinos were massing in those directions.
“Perhaps we had better try to crawl away from this—” began Larry, when a humming sound caught his ear. At the same time the sky grew black.
“Look! look!” yelled Leroy. “What is this—the end of the world?”