, as if the men concealed
there had rushed out.

"Guess we both landed mighty close," said Shorty triumphantly. "They
seem to have lost interest in this piece o' sidehill, anyway."

He and Si made a rush down the hill, and gained the covert of the fence
just in time to see the rails splintered by a bunch of shots striking
them.

"Lay down, Yanks!" called out Shorty cheerily, dropping into the weeds.
"Grab a root!"

To the right of them they could see the rest of Co. Q going through
similar performances.

Si and Shorty pushed the weeds aside, crawled cautiously to the fence,
and looked through. There was a road on the other side of the fence,
and beyond it a grove of large beech trees extending to the bank of the
river. Half concealed by the trunk of one of these stood a tall, rather
good-looking young man, with his gun raised and intently peering into
the bushes. He had seen the tops stir, and knew that his enemies had
gained their cover. He seemed expecting that they would climb the fence
and jump down into the road. At a little distance to his right could be
seen other men on the sharp lookout.

Shorty put his hand on Si to caution and repress{138} him.

With his eyes fixed on the rebel, Shorty drew his gun toward him. The
hammer caught on a trailing vine, and, forgetting himself, he gave it an
impatient jerk. It went off, the bullet whistling past Shorty's head and
the powder burning his face.

The rebel instantly fired in return, and cut the leaves about four feet
above Shorty.

"Purty good shot that, Johnny," called out Shorty as he reloaded his
gun; "but too low. It went between my legs. You hain't no idee how tall
I am."

"If I couldn't shoot no better'n you kin on a sneak," answered the
rebel, his rammer ringing in his gun-barrel, "I wouldn't handle
firearms. Your bullet went a mile over my head. Must've bin shootin' at
an angel. But you Yanks can't shoot nary bit--you're too skeered."

"I made you hump out o' the bushes a few minutes ago," replied Shorty,
putting on a cap. "Who was skeered then? You struck for tall timber like
a cotton-tailed rabbit."

"I'll rabbit ye, ye nigger-lovin' whelp," shouted the rebel. "Take
that," and he fired as close as he could to the sound of Shorty's voice.

Shorty had tried to anticipate his motion and fired first, but the limbs
bothered his aim, and his bullet went a foot to the right of the rebel's
head. It was close enough, however, to make the rebel cover h