CHAPTER XI
IN THE FIRST BRUSH WITH MOROS
At times, while the detachment in the woods covered that last mile the firing ahead cropped up briskly. Then it died down into an occasional, sputtering shot or two. But every discharge of a rifle ahead was now distinctly audible to Uncle Sam's men marching to the relief.
At last the marching men came so close that the young lieutenant whispered to the boyish sergeant:
"I'm going to join the 'point,' Overton. Bring the men on at the same interval, but keep your eyes ahead for signals from me."
"Very good, sir."
Ahead the marching men could now see that the trees were thinning out. Still further ahead they knew that there must lie either plantation fields or the houses themselves.
Many a soldier in the column tightened his grip on his rifle as he thought how soon, now, the raiding Moros would find that they had more fighting on hand than they had bargained for.
The "point" presently halted at the edge of the forest and Lieutenant Prescott signaled back by raising his hand with a downward gesture. Sergeant Overton halted the main detachment.
Over a broad field the soldiers looked, but it was now plain that the besieged planter's house lay on the other side of a belt of timber at the further edge of the field. Then the officer signaled for the main column to be brought up.