“Yes, sir,” replied Eddie, ignoring the cynical smiles of Joe McCarthy, who was present in the capacity of dramatic critic.
“Right,” said Boone. “Go to it!”
The inventor cautiously slid the lath up in its groove, until the helmet-crowned turnip stood some six inches above the parapet, offering a goodly mark against the sky. Then crouching down, he waited. The spectators, with remarkable unanimity, followed his example.
Crack!
A bullet shaved the top sandbag and buried itself with a vicious thud in the back wall of the trench.
“Missed!” announced Gillette calmly. “We better let him try again.”
“Lower the turnip a couple of minutes first,” advised Boone. “A real man wouldn’t keep his head up there all the time—unless it was a bone one!”
Gillette complied, and waited.
“What’s the big idea, Ed?” enquired Al Thompson respectfully.