Crack! crack!
For an instant Hal felt almost dizzy with sudden dread, for those flashes seemed almost to smite him in the face.
Yes, he was afraid, for a brief space. The coward is not the man who is afraid, but the man who allows his fear to overmaster him.
"Fire again," yelled Hal, "and I'll know just where to send a bullet."
As he rushed onward he came out of the corn patch.
Fifty feet further on he saw the fugitive, just dropping to the ground at the roots of a tree.
Crack! crack! crack!
Lying on the ground, his head hardly showing beyond the roots, the fugitive was now in excellent position to stop the young sentry's rush.
Whizz—zz! whizz—zz! Click!
Two of the speeding bullets flew past Hal's head. The third struck and glanced off the rifle butt just as Hal, dropping to one knee, was raising the piece to his shoulder to sight.