"But those rascals may be surrounding us on the quiet."
"Possibly, but, as I said before, we must take some risks. War isn't all fun and glory, and you ought to know it by this time."
"Do you see anything at all suspicious?"
"I do not."
"What do you suppose has become of that sharpshooter?"
"I hardly think he was a sharpshooter, his aim was so bad. More than likely he was some common soldier, who took to his heels as soon as he pulled trigger."
At these words the lieutenant breathed a bit easier, and the forward movement of the pair continued. Crossing a small stream, they gained the edge of the jungle and then moved in a semicircle to the left. A hundred feet were thus covered when Gilmore suddenly clutched Ben's arm.
"Stop! I saw somebody moving along the trees!" he whispered excitedly.
"Where?"
"Over yonder." And the lieutenant pointed with his pistol.
"Was it a rebel?"
