often standing
side by side. As George afterwards expressed it, "any man set his hand
to any job there was to do." Sailors were to be seen on land in many
places, while not a few soldiers helped with the firing on board the
ships.

All that long morning, however, George Fairburn worked at the gun to
which he had been assigned. Black with smoke, powder, dust,
perspiration, the lad toiled among his companions. For an hour or two
none of the enemy's shots fell very near the spot. But at length, and
almost suddenly, the balls began to fly in too close proximity to be
pleasant. Shot after shot fell within a yard or two of the gun, and
not a few gallant fellows dropped to earth dead or wounded.

"By Jupiter!" cried the lieutenant, who was assisting, "they have got
our measure at last! I wonder what it is that makes us so
conspicuous."

Then, looking round, he beheld behind them, and not five yards
distant, a small clump of elder on which some man had tossed the
flaming red shirt he had thrown off in the broiling heat.

"Ah!" Fieldsend ejaculated, "there's the offender."

He sprang away and whipped the tell-tale garment from its bush. Just
as he seized it another shot came, striking the gun in front, entirely
disabling the weapon, and then bounding off. When the men, hastily
scattered by the mishap, looked for the lieutenant, he was observed
lying in front of the bush.

"Dead!" one of the fellows cried.

"No," answered George, whose keen eyes detected a movement of the
officer's arm, "but he soon will be, if he is left lying there!"
Another shot struck the bush, only just missing the body of the
prostrate man. In a moment George darted forward towards the place, in
spite of the loud warning shouts of his mates.

He reached the spot, seized Fieldsend by the shoulders, and by main
force dragged him quickly a dozen yards to the right. It was a heavy
task, but the lad was as sturdy a fellow of his years as one might
have found in a week's march, and his efforts were rewarded with a
cheer from his comrades.

While the shouts were still ringing, yet one more shot came, this time
striking the exact spot where the lieutenant had a moment before been
lying, and ploughing up the little elder bush by its roots.

"As plucky a job as ever I see!" cried the sergeant, running up with
three or four others, and he slapped George on the back with a
heartiness that made the lad wince.

The wounded man was hastily carried off the