He had seen a
rifle barrel protruding above it, and a second later the bullet whistled
where his head had been.
He grew angrier than ever. He had left that sharpshooter alone for at
least ten minutes, while he watched charge and repulse, and he expected
to be treated with the same consideration. He would pay him for such
ferocity, and seeing an edge of gray shoulder, he fired.
No sign came from the rock, and Dick was quite sure that he had missed.
The blood mounted to his head and surcharged his brain. A thousand
little pulses that he had never heard of before began to beat in his head,
and he was devoured by a consuming anger. He vowed to get that fellow
yet.
Lying flat upon his stomach he drew himself around the edge of the rock
and watched. There was a great deal of covering smoke from the artillery
in the pass now, and he believed that it would serve his purpose.
But when he got a little distance away from the rock the bank of smoke
lifted suddenly, and it was only by quickly flattening himself down
behind a little ridge of stone that he saved his life.
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