The retiring party had separated well, so as not to present too good a mark for the enemy, whose practice was far from bad. For the stones were struck close to them again and again, and leaves and twigs were cut from the low growth which here fringed the bank of the river, always in close proximity to where the party ran, and teaching them that not only were the hill-men who fired good shots, but many in number, the high, precipitous ascent to the left being evidently lined with concealed scouts.
“Forward there!” shouted Bracy suddenly, for Gedge began to slacken and hang back.
“Beg pardon, sir,” puffed the lad; “wouldn’t you rayther lead?”
“Forward, you scoundrel!” cried Roberts angrily; and Gedge darted back into the position in which he had been running before, with his two companions, the officers having kept behind.
“Getting pumped, pardner?” said his comrade on the left.
“Pumped! Me pumped!” said Gedge derisively. “Hor, hor! Why, I feel as if I’d on’y jus’ begun to stretch my legs. Go on like this for a week to git a happy-tight. But orsifers ought to lead.”
“Advancing, matey,” said the man on the right. “Fust inter action; last out, you know.”
“Ho, yus; I know,” grumbled Gedge; “but ’tain’t fair: they get all the best o’ everything. Here, I say, look out, laddies. We’re getting among the wild bees, ain’t us? Hear ’em buzz?”
“Yes; and we shall have one of ’em a-stinging on us directly. There goes another.”
For bullet after bullet came buzzing by the flying party’s ears, but still without effect.