“Badly aimed, Dick,” said Maurice, who had his glasses up. “Your eye is not quite in. Look out, they are returning the compliment.”
There was a puff of smoke, a sudden flash, an infinitesimal pause, and a ball came ripping along at tremendous speed, only to strike the ground in front of the battery, and ricochet harmlessly down the hill.
“Their gunner isn’t much better than myself, sir,” cried Dick, carefully training the sight of his piece; “but I won’t miss this time.”
His aim was much better, for the second shot, while not touching the cannon, knocked over two men standing near, who dropped down quickly over the brow of the hill.
“Egad! I wish those two had been the leaders,” said Justinian cheerfully; “both the scamps are there. Here’s the return fire.”
This time the ball struck the palisade fair in the top centre, and smashed down several of the cross-beams. The sharp-shooters, seeing this, gave a cry of triumph, which was echoed by those on the hill, and the gunner rapidly loaded again, so as to follow up the advantage gained. Dick, however, was already prepared, and before the cannon of the enemy could be fired again, a shot from his gun struck it on the carriage, causing it to fall out of position. The besiegers set at once to work about restoring it to its former level; but by this time Gurt also had directed his gun towards the battery, and shot after shot from the two cannon followed so rapidly that in a short time the enemy had to vacate their position.
“I wish I could make a dash, and spike that gun,” said Maurice, as the Melnosians cheered loudly.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort, sir,” replied Justinian sharply. “I don’t want to run the chance of losing you again. Besides, Alcibiades is going to make a dash for the gate.”
“Old fool!” said Crispin scornfully. “He can’t bring his men up against our guns.”
“He’s going to try, at all events, as he evidently thinks his shot has told heavily on our defences.”