Home > Authors Index > H. Irving Hancock > Uncle Sam's Boys in the Ranks > This page
Uncle Sam's Boys in the Ranks, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
||
Chapter 21. The Duel In The Dark |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXI. THE DUEL IN THE DARK
Private Hal Overton was on duty, and bent on business. "I'll get one, or both of the rascals--dead or alive!" flashed through his mind. Not even those two pistol shots brought him to a halt. Yet one of the bullets struck the ground beside him as he raced, the other fanning his left cheek with a little breeze. "Get back there, boy!" growled a gruff voice. "You don't want to be killed, do you?" For answer Hal sighted swiftly and fired. Then, for an instant, he dropped to one knee. From out of the corn patch a curse reached his ears. "If you'd rather be a dead soldier, all right," came the ugly response. "Give it to him good and hot!" Hal had already slipped back the bolt of his piece. Now, as fast as he could handle the material, and while still down on one knee, he slipped five cartridges into his magazine, and a sixth he drove home in the chamber. Bright flashes, swift reports greeted him from two points in the corn patch. These points were about twenty feet apart. The young soldier simply couldn't cover both points of attack. From the way the bullets whistled past his face and body the recruit knew that both his enemies were firing in deadly earnest. And now, from a third point, another assailant joined in the firing, and Hal marveled, with each second, that he still remained alive. He felt as though he were the center of a leaden storm. Yet, as coolly as he could, Soldier Hal chose the man at the left and drove two shots straight in the direction of the flashes. "He's got me," yelled a cursing voice. "I'll get you all, if you don't stop shooting and come out," warned Overton coolly. He could hear the wounded man moving rather swiftly through the corn. "He ought to leave a trail of blood," thought Hal, swiftly, and turned his attention to the next enemy. But that man had stopped his firing. Then Hal turned his rifle in the direction of the flashes from the pistol farthest away. Bang! He sent one shot there, and the shooting of the unknown stopped. [Illustration: Hal Dropped to One Knee.] Private Overton, however, could not know whether he had hit the fellow. "That fellow in the middle may be left yet," breathed Hal Overton, "I'll find out." He had three shots yet left in his magazine, and his piece was at cock. Rising, he made swiftly for the corn, and dived in. "Back for your life!" sounded a voice straight ahead. Crack! crack! Two pistols shots fanned his face. But Hal took another running bound forward, preferring to reserve his fire until he could catch a good glimpse of the fellow's body. "Back, you fool!" hissed the voice, followed by two more shots. "Come out with your hands up, or I'll get you!" Hal retorted. Instead, the unknown and unseen turned and ran some fifty feet. Hal pursued, without shooting. Crack! crack! For an instant Hal felt almost dizzy with sudden dread, for those flashes seemed almost to smite him in the face. Yes, he was afraid, for a brief space. The coward is not the man who is afraid, but the man who allows his fear to overmaster him. "Fire again," yelled Hal, "and I'll know just where to send a bullet." As he rushed onward he came out of the corn patch. Fifty feet further on he saw the fugitive, just dropping to the ground at the roots of a tree. Crack! crack! crack! Lying on the ground, his head hardly showing beyond the roots, the fugitive was now in excellent position to stop the young sentry's rush. Whizz--zz! whizz--zz! Click! Two of the speeding bullets flew past Hal's head. The third struck and glanced off the rifle butt just as Hal, dropping to one knee, was raising the piece to his shoulder to sight. Bang! That was Hal's rifle, again in action. He had aimed swiftly, but deliberately, for the base of the tree. Against the military rifle of to-day an ordinary tree offers no protection. The American Army rifle, at short range, will send a bullet through three feet of green oak. "Wow!" yelled the other. Though Hal did not then know it, the bullet had driven a handful of dirt into the fellow's mouth. Hal could hear the rascal spitting, so he called: "Come on out and surrender, and I won't fire again." "You go to blazes!" yelled an angry voice. Muffled as the voice was, it had a strangely familiar sound to the young soldier. Hal seized the chance to fill his magazine as he shot the bolt back. He slipped another cartridge into the chamber. From the sounds beyond he knew that his enemy was also reloading. "Any time you want me to stop shooting," Hal coolly announced, "just call out that you surrender." Then he brought his piece to his shoulder. Bang! He could hear the bullet strike with a thud. Had there been light Hal could have scored a hit, but all shooting in the dark is mainly guesswork. Crack! crack! The fugitive's pistol was also in action. One of the bullets carried the young soldier's sombrero from his head, but he was barely aware of the fact. Yet, had that bullet been aimed two inches lower, it would have found a resting place in his brain. Bang! Hal fired his second shot with deliberation. "Stop that!" wailed the other, with a new note of fear in his voice. "Surrender!" Crack! crack! Two pistol shots made up the reply. "I'm afraid I've got to kill him, if he doesn't get me first." Bang! "Ow--ow--ow--ow!" That yell was genuine enough to show that the young sentry's bullet had struck flesh. "Do you surrender?" "Not to you!" Hal fired again. Then he crouched low, slipping two more cartridges into his rifle. Crack! crack! "I'll get you yet," called a furious voice. Hal started as though he had been shot, though he was not aware of a hit. "Tip Branders!" he called, in astonishment, and fired again. "Yes, it's me," came the admission. "Hal Overton, are you going to kill an old friend?" _ |
||