“Are you all there?” cried Archy.
“Yes,”—“No,”—“No,” came from different directions.
“Then keep up this way, and be ready for another rush.”
“Ay,” cried the master loudly; “and I warn you fellows now, I’d have treated you easy; but if you will have it, the word’s war, and a volley of bullets next time you come on.”
“No, no, don’t fire! You’ll hit our own men,” whispered Archy, as he reached the top of the slope. “Ah! Who’s this?” he cried, as he nearly fell over a prostrate figure.
“Steady, my lad, steady!”
“Steady it is,” said another voice.
“What, bo’s’n?”
“Yes, sir, and me too. Oh, my head! How it bleeds!”
“Why, what are you doing here?”