Dick raised his rifle. Young Woodville was an easy target. But the
motion was only a physical impulse. He knew in his heart that he had
no intention of shooting the young Southerner, and he did not feel the
slightest tinge of remorse because he evaded this part of a soldier's
work.
Yet Woodville, seeing nobody and hearing nothing, would come on. Dick,
holding his rifle in the crook of his left arm, drew a pistol and fired
it over the lad's head. At the same moment he dropped almost flat upon
the ground. The bullet cut the leaves above Woodville and he sprang back,
startled. A half-dozen Southern skirmishers fired at the flash of Dick's
pistol, but he, too, lying on the ground, heard them cutting leaves over
his head.
Dick saw the face of Woodville disappear from the bush, and then he crept
away, rejoining Colonel Winchester and his comrades. Five minutes later
the skirmish ceased by mutual consent, and each band fell back on its own
army, convinced that both were on the watch.
They were to advance at four o'clock in the morning, but Pennington's
prediction came true.
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