Part 6 (1/2)
At that instant, the sharp crack of a single rifle was heard, and Somers observed a slight jerk in the brim of the captain's felt hat.
”Bravo!” exclaimed Captain de Banyan as he took off his hat, and pointed to a hole through which the rifle-ball had sped its way. ”I'll bet a month's pay that fellow couldn't do that again without making a hole through my head. But that's a singular coincidence. That's precisely the place where the first bullet went through my hat at Solferino. At Magenta--ah! I see him,” added the captain, as he took a musket from the hands of one of his men. ”I'll bet another month's pay that reb has fired his last shot.”
As he spoke, he raised the gun to his shoulder, and fired up into one of the trees. A cras.h.i.+ng of boughs, a rattling of leaves followed; and a heavy body was heard to strike the ground.
”You owe me a month's pay, Somers,” continued Captain de Banyan, as he handed the musket back to the soldier.
”I think not,” replied the lieutenant, trying to be as cool as his companion. ”I never bet.”
”Just so. I forgot that you were an exceedingly proper young man.”
The skirmish-line, which had paused a moment for an observation to be taken, now moved forward again. The rebel skirmishers were discovered, and the order was given to fire at will. The enemy's sharpshooters were posted in the trees, and they began to pour in a galling fire upon a portion of the line.
”Steady, my men!” said Somers, when the firing commenced. ”Gunpowder's expensive; don't waste it.”
”Not a single grain of it, Leftenant Somers,” added Sergeant Hapgood.
”There, uncle!--up in that tree!” said Somers, pointing to a grayback, who was loading his rifle, about twenty feet from the ground.
”I see him!” replied the sergeant as he leveled his piece, and fired.
The rebel was wounded, but he did not come down; and the captain of the company ordered his men to move forward. From the thunder of the artillery and the rattle of musketry, it was evident that heavy work was in progress on the right and left.
”Forward, men!” said Somers, repeating the order of Captain Benson.
The men were scattered along an irregular line, and firing into the bushes, which partially concealed the rebel skirmishers. Somers's platoon advanced a little more rapidly than the rest of the line, being favored with a few rods of dry ground. He had urged them forward for the purpose of dislodging three sharpshooters perched in a large tree.
”Come down, rebs!” shouted Somers, as he reached the foot of the tree, and told half a dozen of his men to point their guns towards them.
”What d'ye say, Yank?” demanded one of them.
”Will you come down head first, or feet first? Take your choice quick!”
replied the lieutenant.
”As you seem to be in arnest, we'll come down the nateral way.”
They did come down without a more pressing invitation, and were disarmed, ready to be sent to the rear.
CHAPTER VI
THE REBEL SHARPSHOOTERS
”Lieutenant Somers, I don't think I can stand it much longer,” said Phineas Deane, a private, who had joined the regiment a few days before the battle, as he saluted his officer.
”Can't stand what?”
”The fact on't is, lieutenant, I'm sick. I haven't felt well for two or three days. I come out here to fight for my country, and I want to do some good. I might help take them prisoners back, if you say so.”
”Sick, are you? What's the matter?”