“Thank you, Gedge,” said Bracy in a low voice. “I believe you’ve saved my life.”
“Not me, sir; he shot first, but it did look near.”
“Horribly, my lad, and he’d have had me next time.”
“Think so, sir?” said the lad, taking aim again. “Well, there’s another on ’em shooting, and I want to get him if I can. Stop him from committing murder, too.”
Gedge took a long aim, and his finger trembled about the trigger for nearly a minute, but he did not fire; and all the while, evidently set in motion by a good strong party of the enemy, the stones came crashing and thundering down, in spite of the firing kept up by the covering sections, whose rifle-bullets spattered and splashed upon the rocks, and often started tiny avalanches of weathered débris.
Then all at once Gedge fired, and the long barrel, which had been thrust out from the little breastwork and sent down dangerous shots time after time, was suddenly snatched back, and the lad reloaded, looking smilingly at the lieutenant the while.
“Good shot,” said Sergeant Gee importantly. “You didn’t do your firing-practice for nothing, my man.”
“Did you hit him, Gedge?” cried Bracy eagerly.
“Yes, sir; he had it that time. I could ha’ done it afore if he’d ha’ showed hisself.”
“But he did at last.”