Fifty shots were sent at the rock, but a puff of smoke
from it afterward and a hissing bullet showed that the marksman was untouched.
It was apparent that he was secure behind his rock bulwark
and had some opening through which he could fire at his leisure.
It was also apparent that he must be dislodged if possible; but how to do it
was the question; no one could reach him. The slope down and the slope up
to the group of rocks behind which he lay were both in plain view,
and any man would be riddled who attempted to cross it. A bit of woods
reached some distance up on one side, but not far enough to give a shot at one
behind the rock; and though the ground in that direction dipped a little,
there was one little ridge in full view of both lines and perfectly bare,
except for a number of bodies of skirmishers who had fallen earlier
in the day. It was discussed in the line; but everyone knew that no man
could get across the ridge alive. While they were talking of it Little Darby,
who, with a white face, had helped old Cove to get his boy's body
back out of fire, slipped off to one side, rifle in hand,
and disappeared in the wood.
They were still talking of the impossibility of dislodging the sharp-shooter
when a man appeared on the edge of the wood.
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