G. W. held his breath, and got his gun in position. He understood. He had heard of the foes' trick of covering themselves with leaves to escape attention, and he knew at once what he had to deal with. Never was he calmer than he grew at that moment.
But oh, look! the crawling form, in the open now, stopped, raised his gun, and took deliberate aim at something beyond. G. W. was as quick; and before there was time for the leafy form to draw the trigger, his own small sure hand had flashed forth a bullet! With a cry the wretched creature flung up his arms and fell back.
G. W. stood up and wiped the perspiration from his cold, drawn face. His eyes were blazing, but the strange new calmness still possessed him. He pushed forward to find the object at which the Spaniard's gun had been aimed.
That it was "one of our boys" little G. W. of course knew; but he was not prepared for the sight that presently rose before him.
A bit beyond, leaning against a tree, bloodstained, dirt-begrimed, and faint, sat his Colonel.
At the first glimpse of him something like the ice of winter gave way in G. W.'s breast. The blood began to flow through his veins; the past was but a bad dream—he was once more a glad and loving little fellow.
"Colonel!" he whispered, like one coming out of sleep. "Colonel, I'se here!"
But Colonel Austin took no heed of the tender voice.