“I make out figures crawling to the cover of the line of brush just to the right of the bald knob,” Tom continued. “There are eight of them, I think.”
“I see figures moving there,” Dave answered. Then, in a low voice, the deputy instructed the engineers on each side of him.
“I see half a dozen more figures—-heads, rather—-showing just at the summit line of the rock itself,” went on Reade.
“Yes; I make ’em,” answered Fulsbee, after a long, keen look.
Again more instructions were given to the engineers.
“Say, I’ve _got_ to have a rifle,” insisted Harry nervously. “You know, I always have been ’cracked, on target shooting. This is the best practical chance that I’ll ever have.”
“You’ll have to wait your turn, Harry,” Tom urged soothingly.
“My turn?”
“Yes; wait until one of our fellows is badly hit. Then you can take up his rifle and move into his place on the line. When you’re hit, then I can have the rifle.”
Hazelton made a face, though he said nothing.