Hampton remained cool, alert, and motionless,
striving in vain to discover some means of escape, but the little
marshal kept grimly cheerful, creeping constantly from point to point
in the endeavor to get a return shot at his tormentors.
"This whole blame country is full of discharged sojers," he growled,
"an' they know their biz all right. I reckon them fellers is pretty
sure to git one of us yit; anyhow, they 've got us cooped. Say, Bob,
thet lad crawling yonder ought to be in reach, an' it's our bounden
duty not to let the boys git too gay."
Hampton tried the shot suggested, elevating considerable to overcome
distance. There was a yell, and a swift skurrying backward which
caused Mason to laugh, although neither knew whether this result arose
from fright or wound.
"'Bliged ter teach 'em manners onct in a while, or they 'll imbibe a
fool notion they kin come right 'long up yere without no invite. 'T
ain't fer long, no how, 'less all them guys are ijuts."
Hampton turned his head and looked soberly into the freckled face,
impressed by the speaker's grave tone.
"Why?"
"Fire, my boy, fire.
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