Hal took the advice given him, and, copying the example of the sergeant, threw himself down behind a rock. Then, dropping his rifle for the moment, he commenced to build up a little breastwork, just like the schantzes used by the Boers in South Africa. Having obtained excellent cover in this way, he knelt up and stared into the bush.
Ping! thud! A rifle flashed three hundred yards away, and the bullet struck a foot or two to his right, sending chips of rock and a fine dust flying into the air. Ping! phit! Again the rifle cracked, and all that Hal could see was a dense mass of tangled green trailers and ferns.
"Wait a bit," he murmured beneath his breath. "I see that big fern moving. Why, as I live, it has crawled ten feet in the last half-minute. There must be a man behind."
He aimed carefully and fired. Instantly the waving fronds started high into the air, and, falling asunder, disclosed a Spanish guerrilla reeling blindly from side to side. Then he flung his arms wildly above his head, and, twisting round in his agony, fell prone to the earth.
"HE AIMED CAREFULLY AND FIRED."
"That aer one for you, pard," the sergeant cried. "Guess it wur a mighty fluke."
"Wrong, then," Hal answered. "The Spaniards have stuck ferns into their hats, coats, and belts, and that is the reason why you do not spot them. It's a very old trick of theirs, and one that they learned from the Cubans. Watch for moving leaves, and pull your trigger with the sights leveled three feet beneath."