Uncle Sam's Boys in the Ranks: or, Two Recruits in the United States Army

"Corporal of the guard, post number three!"

The gate was too far away. Hal took the fence at a bound, carrying his cocked piece with him.

Straight to the growing corn the young private took his speedy way.

"Come out and show yourselves, or I fire at once," Private Overton shouted.

Crack! crack! Two pistol shots rang out from the corn patch.

CHAPTER XXI

THE DUEL IN THE DARK

ALL this had occupied but a few seconds.

Private Hal Overton was on duty, and bent on business.

"I'll get one, or both of the rascals – dead or alive!" flashed through his mind.

Not even those two pistol shots brought him to a halt.

Yet one of the bullets struck the ground beside him as he raced, the other fanning his left cheek with a little breeze.

"Get back there, boy!" growled a gruff voice. "You don't want to be killed, do you?"

For answer Hal sighted swiftly and fired.

Then, for an instant, he dropped to one knee.

From out of the corn patch a curse reached his ears.

"If you'd rather be a dead soldier, all right," came the ugly response. "Give it to him good and hot!"

Hal had already slipped back the bolt of his piece. Now, as fast as he could handle the material, and while still down on one knee, he slipped five cartridges into his magazine, and a sixth he drove home in the chamber.

Bright flashes, swift reports greeted him from two points in the corn patch. These points were about twenty feet apart.

The young soldier simply couldn't cover both points of attack.

From the way the bullets whistled past his face and body the recruit knew that both his enemies were firing in deadly earnest.

And now, from a third point, another assailant joined in the firing, and Hal marveled, with each second, that he still remained alive. He felt as though he were the center of a leaden storm.

Yet, as coolly as he could, Soldier Hal chose the man at the left and drove two shots straight in the direction of the flashes.

"He's got me," yelled a cursing voice.

"I'll get you all, if you don't stop shooting and come out," warned Overton coolly.

He could hear the wounded man moving rather swiftly through the corn.

"He ought to leave a trail of blood," thought Hal, swiftly, and turned his attention to the next enemy.

But that man had stopped his firing.

Then Hal turned his rifle in the direction of the flashes from the pistol farthest away.

Bang! He sent one shot there, and the shooting of the unknown stopped.

Private Overton, however, could not know whether he had hit the fellow.

"That fellow in the middle may be left yet," breathed Hal Overton, "I'll find out."

He had three shots yet left in his magazine, and his piece was at cock.

Rising, he made swiftly for the corn, and dived in.

"Back for your life!" sounded a voice straight ahead.

Crack! crack!

Two pistols shots fanned his face.

But Hal took another running bound forward, preferring to reserve his fire until he could catch a good glimpse of the fellow's body.

"Back, you fool!" hissed the voice, followed by two more shots.

"Come out with your hands up, or I'll get you!" Hal retorted.

Instead, the unknown and unseen turned and ran some fifty feet.

Hal pursued, without shooting.

Crack! crack!

For an instant Hal felt almost dizzy with sudden dread, for those flashes seemed almost to smite him in the face.

Yes, he was afraid, for a brief space. The coward is not the man who is afraid, but the man who allows his fear to overmaster him.

"Fire again," yelled Hal, "and I'll know just where to send a bullet."

As he rushed onward he came out of the corn patch.

Fifty feet further on he saw the fugitive, just dropping to the ground at the roots of a tree.

Crack! crack! crack!

Lying on the ground, his head hardly showing beyond the roots, the fugitive was now in excellent position to stop the young sentry's rush.