“Yes, to the left.”
The lad turned his head to the left. At that moment, another whistle, more acute and lower than the first, cut the air. The boy was startled.
“Deuce take them!” he exclaimed. “They actually are aiming at me!” The bullet had passed at a short distance from him.
“Down!” shouted the officer, angrily and commandingly.
“I'll come down presently,” replied the boy. “But the tree shelters me. Don't fear. You want to know what there is on the left?”
“Yes, on the left,” answered the officer; “but come down.”
“On the left,” shouted the lad, turning his body in that direction, “yonder, where there is a chapel, I think I see—”
A third fierce whistle passed through the air, and almost at the same instant the boy was seen to descend, catching for a moment at the trunk and branches, and then falling headlong with arms outspread.
“Curse them!” exclaimed the officer, running up.
The boy landed on the ground, upon his back, and lay there with arms open and motionless; a stream of blood flowed from his left side. The sergeant and two soldiers leaped from their horses. The officer bent over and opened his shirt. The ball had entered his left lung.
“He is dead!” exclaimed the officer.
“No, he still lives!” replied the sergeant.
“Ah, poor boy! brave boy!” cried the officer. “Courage, courage!” But while he was saying
