ombrero 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?"

CHAPTER XXII

CAPTAIN CORTLAND HEADS THE PURSUIT

AWAY over by post number four Hal heard three rifle shots ring out. But
he paid no heed. Instead he answered the now terrorized wretch in front
of him:

"I'll have to kill you, unless you surrender!"

"Then I'll get you first," came the defiant answer.

From the flashes, it could now be seen that Tip Branders was firing with
a revolver in each hand.

The bullets came in so swift and close that Private Hal Overton
expected, every instant, to be bowled over.

But still he fired deliberately, though he now strove to make each shot
effective.

In a few moments he fired next to the last cartridge in his magazine,
just as the furious revolver fusillade came to an end.

"O-o-oh!"

Then the young sentry felt, rather than saw, something topple over at
the base of the tree.

Hal leaped up, at the same instant hearing some one run up behind him.

That brought the young sentry about like a flash.

"I'm Captain Ruggles, Sentry!" came the prompt hail, and Private Overton
recognized the voice.

Then Hal wheeled the other way, rushing toward the tree, calling back as
he ran:

"I think I got the scoundrel, sir."

In another moment Hal was beside the tree, holding his rifle clubbed and
ready, in case Tip Branders was playing 'possum.

But the fellow lay on the ground, curiously huddled up, not moving a
hand.

"I got him with that last shot, sir," announced Private Overton, turning
and carefully saluting his office