uty, 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.

[Illustration: Hal Dropped to One Knee.]

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 an