The shrapnel whined murderously. Another horse fell.
"Peste!" cried the hunchback.
He thrust the cage into Horace's hands, ran up to the wheels of the gun, where two gunners were lifting, shouldered the men aside, stooped and put his tremendous strength into the heave and the gun jerked forward.
"Hey, but you are strong!" said the sergeant.
"But yes," the hunchback replied, "I am almost as good as a horse."
The guns moved off at a sharp trot.
Horace and the hunchback jumped on the rear of the ammunition wagon. They had not gone a hundred yards when a shrapnel bullet struck one of the gun-drivers in the head and he fell.
The horses commenced to plunge.
There was a moment's confusion, and, before any one could say a word, Horace had dropped from the wagon, run forward to the gun and leapt on the plunging horse. Old memories of the ranch came back to him and the rearing animal quieted at once.