“That he didn’t, sir, on’y his shadder on the stone, and I aimed at that.”
“Nonsense!” cried the Sergeant.
“Ah, well, you’ll see,” said Gedge, and he turned with a grin to his officer. “I foun’ as I should never hit him strite forrard, sir, so I thinked it out a bit, and then aimed at his shadder, and it was like taking him off the cushion—fired at the stone where I could see the shadder of his head.”
“Ah! a ricochet,” cried Bracy.
“That’s it, sir; a rickyshay.”
The stones continued to fall without effect; but no one above attempted to expose himself again to the deadly fire from below.
Suddenly Bracy started from his place.
“Up with you, my lads; forward!”
Waving his sword, he made a rush, leading his men along the deadly-looking piece of road swept by the stones from above, for the rear-guard had passed in safety; and, with his breath coming thick and fast, he dashed forward, knowing full well that their first movement would be the signal for the stones to come down thick and fast. He was quite right; for, as the men cheered and dashed after their two officers, block after block came whirring down, crashing, bounding, shivering, and seeming to fill the air with fragments so thickly that it was quite impossible to believe the passage of that hundred exposed yards could be accomplished in safety. But they got across untouched, and the men cheered again as they clustered about their officers, the precipitous spot where they now stood being sheltered from the danger, apparently inaccessible even to the enemy.
“Bravo, my lads!” cried the Captain.