With a bound he leaped forward.
"Halt!" he cried. "Halt or I fire."
There were startled exclamations from both men, and then a prodigious scrambling in the bushes as they tried to escape.
Bang! went Frank's rifle, and there was a scream followed by a heavy fall.
Frank rushed forward, but caught his foot in a tangled root and fell.
His gun flew from his hand and his head came in contact with a stump.
The jagged edges cut a gash in his forehead, and for a moment he was
utterly dazed.
He strove desperately to retain his senses and in a minute or two his brain ceased to whirl. He staggered drunkenly to his rifle and picked it up. And at this moment there was a sound of hurrying feet, and Wilson, the corporal of the guard, came running up, accompanied by Fred Anderson who had been on duty near by.
"What is it, Sheldon?" asked the corporal "What were you shooting at?"
Frank tried to speak, but his tongue was thick and the words would not come."
"He's wounded!" exclaimed Anderson, as he saw with alarm the blood flowing freely from Frank's forehead.
They deftly bound up his head, and by this time Frank had found his voice.