“Yes, sir, that’s it, ain’t it?” said the lad eagerly.
“Of course,” replied Bracy.
“And I ought to shoot as straight as I can, oughtn’t I?”
“Certainly.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Gedge, and then to his nearest comrade, “I feel a deal better after that.”
The stony bombardment continued, and Bracy watched every dislodged block as it fell, feeling a strange contraction about the heart, as it seemed certain that either it or the fragments into which it splintered must sweep some of the brave lads steadily marching along the shelf, horribly mutilated, into the gulf below.
But it was not so; either the stones were a little too soon or too late, or they struck the side and glanced off to fly whirring over the line of men and raise echoes from far below. For, after certainly losing four, the enemy grew more cautious about exposing themselves; and as the minutes glided by it began to appear as if the regiment would get past the dangerous spot without loss, for the baggage mules and heavily-laden camels were now creeping along, and the covering party at a word from Captain Roberts became, if possible, more watchful.
It was about this time that Bill Gedge, who tired seldom, but with the effect of keeping the stones from one special gap from doing mischief, drew the Sergeant’s attention to that particular spot, and, hearing his remarks, Bracy lay back and brought his field-glass to bear upon it.
“It ain’t no good firing at a pair o’ hands coming and going,” said Gedge. “I want to ketch the chap as is doing that there bit o’ brick laying.”
“Bit of what!” cried Bracy.