e Adjutant. "Time's passing.
We must move."

Si deployed his men and entered the dense woods which curtained the view
and shrouded the enemy. It was one of those deeply anxious moments in
war, when the enemy is in ambush, and the next instant, the next step
may develop him in deadly activity.

Si was on the right of his line and Shorty on the left, and they were
pushing forward slowly, cautiously, and with every sense strained to the
extremity of alertness.

So dense was the foliage overhead that it was almost a twilight in the
forest depths they were penetrating, and Si's eyes were strained to
keep track of the men moving on his left, and at the same time watch the
developments in front. He had noticed that he was approaching a little
opening some distance ahead, and that beyond it was a dense thicket of
tall laurels. Then he thought he heard a low whistle from Shorty, and
looked far to the left, while continuing to walk forward.

Suddenly he was startled by a shot a little to his rear and left. Then a
shot answered from the laurel thicket, he saw the bushes over there stir
violently, and he heard Nate's voice say:

"He wuz layin' for yo', Si, an' come nigh a-gittin' yo', but I think I
must've at least creased him, from the wild way he shot back. Le's go
forrard an' see."

"I thought I told you to stay back," said Si, more intent on military
discipline than his escape.

"I know yo' did done hit, but I couldn't mind, an' tagged 'long arter
yo'."

"How'd you know he wuz there?"

"I done seed the bushes move over his head. I knowed jest how he wuz
a-layin' for yo'. Le's go forrard an' git him."

Si and Nate ran across the open space to the laurels, and found a little
ways in a bushwhacker staggering from pain and loss of blood from a
wound in his hip, and making labored efforts to escape.

"I done hit him; I done fetched him; I done knowed jist whar he wuz,"
exclaimed Nate with boyish exultation.

At the sound of his voice the bushwhacker turned around upon him an
ugly, brutal face, full of savage hatred.

"Why, hit's bad ole Wash Barnstable, what burnt daddy's stable with two
horses, an' shot brother Wils through the arm. I'll jist job him in the
heart with my bayonet," screamed the boy as he recognized the face.
His own features became transfigured with rage, and he began fixing his
bayonet. Si pushed forward and caught the bushwhacker by the shoulder
and tore the gun from his hand. Nate came springing