“Pistol, this time, boys. Out Henry Karnes’s way. Alerte, everybody!”
Ernest stood aquiver, peering. Peered all.
“I done told you, I done told you,” reiterated Jim.
The mist was so thick that each man barely could see his neighbor; but from the near distance an officer called:
“Steady, boys. They can’t see any better than we can.”
Colonel Bowie hustled through the fog.
“Where were those shots fired?” he queried right and left.
“Straight yonder, colonel,” they directed, as he passed.
“Fall in, all of you,” he ordered; and the word sped.