Realizing something of the situation, the three grabbed their rifles, laying by their sides, and, keeping down, prepared to fire as soon as they could see something at which to aim.
Mr. Hampton stirred in his tent a moment later. He had been sleeping hard, and had not awakened instantly as had the others. Moreover, a dull ache gripped his head, preventing him from thinking clearly and from comprehending instantly what was occurring. He lay a moment, wondering what had awakened him. All was still outside, for Frank and Art had ceased firing to await some sign from the unseen enemy. Mr. Hampton decided to peer out and investigate what had disturbed him. He crawled from his dog tent and stood up.
At his appearance, a ragged volley burst once more from the long grass surrounding the tiny grove, for his figure stood forth clearly and made an excellent target. Spinning about, Mr. Hampton fell heavily to the ground.
A wild yell of triumph went up at this indication that the leader had been hit. Jack leaped up regardless of consequences and ran to his father, dragging him into the tent, while bullets whipped around him. Bob ran to his assistance. To the hidden enemy it must have seemed as if their opponents were demoralized. At any rate, they grew more courageous, and started a rush.
From three sides, it came, the figures of the oncoming men only partially seen as they crouched low and darted through the grass. But the long stems waving above them marked their paths, and there were three still on watch who would have to be dealt with.
Frank, Art and Farnum marked where the waving grass indicated the enemy. Each guarded a side of the little grove. On the fourth side lay the stream.
“Wait’ll they’re close, fellows, then give it to ’em,” cautioned Farnum. “Ready. Let’s go.”
The three repeating rifles spoke as one, and from the long grass came howls and shrieks of pain and terror. What followed was brief but lively. Each of the three pumped his rifle as fast as possible, and the bullets poured into the grass almost as fast as if sprayed from the throat of a machine gun. The return fire was heavy but high, whipping through the branches of the spruce trees overhead.
Reinforcements added to the strength of the defenders, for Bob darted out of the tent, crouched over, and flung himself beside Frank, beginning to shoot even as he talked.
“Mr. Hampton escaped by a miracle,” he said. “Bullet creased his head and stunted him. He’ll be all right.”