were yet seeking shelter a report rang out on the misty morning air, and a bullet clipped through the brushwood close beside them.
"Wasn't that a close shave?" gasped Lieutenant Gilmore, when he felt safe to speak. "What did I tell you, captain?"
Captain Ben Russell did not reply immediately, for the reason that his whole attention was directed to the turn in the road from whence the shot had proceeded. He half expected more shots to follow, but in this he was disappointed.
"I believe I saw the glint of that rascal's rifle barrel," he observed slowly. "But I can't locate the exact spot now."
"What had we best do—fall back and report?"
"That depends. I should like to know if that fellow is alone."
"It's not likely—they always travel in batches of half a dozen or more—you know that as well as I."
"Our command could easily round up half a dozen." The young captain of Company D paused in thought. "I have half a mind to scout around a little and size up the situation before we go back."
"But the danger—"
