Upon those two, convergent rifles from all along the line of the wood poured a rain of lead. Still they refused to hurry. And one was tall and bearded, and the other slender, and with a face as smooth as a girl’s. The boy, as fast as he loaded his rifle, wheeled and fired; the man carried a pistol in his hand. Weeds fell about them, mowed down by the bullets; spurts of dust leaped from under their very feet.
The few men left in our line stood, under cover of a thin curtain of trees, fascinated by the sight of these two, leisurely stalking along, under that murderous fire.[[1]]
“Run, run!” we shouted.
“Run!” cried Captain Smith, giving the shoulder of his companion a push.
“And leave my commander!” replied Edmund.
“Stoop, then!”
“Show me how, captain!”
“Obey me!” thundered he.
The boy lowered his head, as he rammed a bullet home; then turned, and, cocking his rifle, scanned the opposite wood narrowly. Presently he raised his rifle; but before he could fire we heard that terrible sound which old soldiers know so well.
“Oh!” cried the boy, falling upon his face.