"
Then, looking round, he beheld behind them, and not five yards
distant, a small clump of elder on which some man had tossed the
flaming red shirt he had thrown off in the broiling heat.
"Ah!" Fieldsend ejaculated, "there's the offender."
He sprang away and whipped the tell-tale garment from its bush. Just
as he seized it another shot came, striking the gun in front, entirely
disabling the weapon, and then bounding off. When the men, hastily
scattered by the mishap, looked for the lieutenant, he was observed
lying in front of the bush.
"Dead!" one of the fellows cried.
"No," answered George, whose keen eyes detected a movement of the
officer's arm, "but he soon will be, if he is left lying there!"
Another shot struck the bush, only just missing the body of the
prostrate man. In a moment George darted forward towards the place, in
spite of the loud warning shouts of his mates.
He reached the spot, seized Fieldsend by the shoulders, and by main
force dragged him quickly a dozen yards to the right. It was a heavy
task, but the lad was as sturdy a fellow of his years as one might
have found in a week's march, and his efforts were rewarded with a
cheer from his comrades.
While the shouts were still ringing, yet one more shot came, this time
striking the exact spot where the lieutenant had a moment before been
lying, and ploughing up the little elder bush by its roots.
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