"Lie down!" shouted Prescott steadily, though he remained with his field glass to his eyes, searching the grove. "Sergeant Overton, see how badly Danes is hurt."
Hal strode over to where the wounded man lay.
"Oh, it ain't nothing, Sarge," growled Private Danes disgustedly. "Just enough to give me a toothache in the hip."
Yet the poor fellow pointed to a bloodstained spot right over the center of the hip bone. Danes's left leg would never again be sound enough to march with his comrades. Perhaps the man realized it, but he was a soldier, and therefore made no fuss.
"You'll have to lie quiet, Danes," returned Sergeant Hal. "We'll get you out of this."
Just then Private Kelly raised his head for a look at the adjacent grove.
As he did so a shot rang out over in the grove and Kelly uttered an exclamation of disgust.
"Hit, Kelly?" queried Sergeant Hal, stepping over to him.
Private Kelly spat out two loose front teeth and some blood.
"Ye see what happened, Sarge," retorted Kelly. "It's a good thing the fellow drew a bead on me profile. But I ain't kicking at getting a dentist's services for nothing. No, that ain't my kick."
"Why, that blamed bullet was hot, and the Moro made me swallow it! It was so hot that it burned all the way down! Got any ice, Sarge?"
A burst came from a dozen distant rifles at once. Bullets tore through the air around Lieutenant Prescott as he stood, still with his field glass to his eyes. Looking around, however, he saw Hal standing, and commanded severely:
"If you're through with your work, Sergeant Overton, lie down. Ready, men, for just one volley. Load; aim--at the front timber line of that grove. Fire!"
Hardly had the crashing volley ripped out when again the young officer's voice was heard:
This time the line moved with a yell, the two men who carried Danes yelling as loudly as the rest.
They were within two hundred yards of the Seaforth house now. The front door of that building had been thrown open, though no one appeared as yet in the doorway.
It began to look as though the Moros had withdrawn, or else were waiting for something, for no shots came from the enemy.
Again, at command, the detachment rose and rushed forward, this time without cheering.
Uncle Sam's men dropped in their tracks, close to the house.