"Who is thet talkin' to me?" And now the sharpshooter turned half around. "I had a dandy shot."
"The cap'n's orders are not to fire, but to retreat to the other side of the creek," went on Deck. "Pass the order along;" and he spoke in a rough voice, and one apparently filled with disgust.
"Well, I swan!" came from the Confederate sharpshooter. "It was a dandy chance to bring down a man."
"I had a dandy chance myself just now," answered Deck. He felt that his position was a delicate one, and he kept his finger on the trigger of his pistol.
"Are you going to retreat, too?"
"No; the cap'n says I'm to stay on guard here."
"Then he don't want me no more?"
"No. You are to go back—and don't forget to pass the word along. We're running the chance of being surrounded, I've heard."
At this the Confederate sharpshooter muttered something Deck did not catch. But he arose, and fell back, and in a few seconds more was out of the major's sight.
Deck's ruse had succeeded, but he knew that the success would be of uncertain duration. His position was a perilous one, for discovery would more than likely mean death.