aw some men tryin' to cross the crick there," replied Jim, pointing
with his rammer in the direction of the opposite bank.

"There, you kin see 'em for yourself."

"I don't see no men," said Shorty, after a moment's scrutiny.

"There they are. Don't you see that white there?" said Jim, capping his
musket for another shot.

"That white," said Shorty contemptously, "is some water-birches. They
was there when you came on guard, for I noticed 'em, and they hain't
moved since. You seen 'em then, lookin' just as they do now. You're
a fool to think you kin see anything white in a rebel. 'Taint their
color."

"I don't care," half whimpered Jim. "Gid Mackall, and Harry Joslyn,
and Alf Russell, and Pete Skidmore, and even Sandy Baker, have all shot
rebels, and I hain't hit none. I don't have half-a-show."

"Be patient," Shorty consoled him. "Your three years's only begun.
You'll have lots o' chances yit. But if I ketch you shootin' at any more
white birches I'll tie you up by the thumbs."

Shorty returned to the fire. Si bade the boys he down again, and took
his own blanket. Shorty relighted his pipe, took out his never-failing
deck of cards and began running them over.

[Illustration: WILD SHOOTING OF THE BOYS SAVES THE SURPRISED COLORED
MAN. 273]

Jim Humphreys's shot had given new restlessness to the boys. They did
not at all believe in Shorty's diagnosis of the situation. There must be
more men lurking over there whence all that murderous shooting had come
only a little while ago. Jim Humphreys was more than probably right. One
after another of them quietly slipped away from the fire with his gun
and made his way down to Jim Humphreys's post, which commanded what
seemed to be a crossing of the creek. They stood there and scanned the
opposite bank of darkness with tense expectancy. They had their ears
tuned up to respond to even the rustle of the brown, dry leaves on the
trees and the murmur of the creek over the stones. They even saw the
white birches move around from place to place and approach the water,
but Shorty's dire threat prevented their firing until they got something
more substantial.

"There's rebels over there, sure as you're born,"' murmured Jim to them,
without turning his head to relax his fixed gaze nor taking his finger
from the trigger of his cocked gun. "Wish they'd fire a gun first to
convince that old terror of a Corpril, who thinks he kin tell where
rebels is just by the smell. I'd--"

"Sh