“No; but give me a hint first.”
“All right. I shall have to—Stop a moment,” he growled softly as a puff of smoke spurted up and another bullet came dangerously near. “That’s the worst fellow, isn’t he?”
“One’s as bad as the other. Lie close.”
“Can’t lie any closer, old man. Skin seems to be growing to the rock as it is.”
Crack!
There was another shot, the puff of smoke rising from close alongside the former one which Dickenson had seen.
“I say,” he cried, “which of us are they firing at?”
“Both, I expect,” said Lennox. “They’re sheltered by the same rock; one fires from one side, the other from the second. I can’t touch them. Try at once.”
“Don’t you hurry me, or I shall muff it, old man,” said Dickenson coolly. “I want a better chance. There’s nothing but a bit of wideawake to fire at now.—Ha! Lie still. He’s reaching out to fire at me, I think.”
Dickenson’s rifle spurted, and their enemy’s was like an echo; but the muzzle of the Boer’s piece was suddenly jerked upward, and the bullet had an opportunity of proving how far a Mauser rifle would carry with a high trajectory.