The things we do!

"Hold
your fire! Hold!--What do you mean?--What are you doing?" His
voice rose into a scream.
Some one had fired a shot. At once the thicket was filled with
armed men. Some unknown member of the boat party, standing on the
deck behind the leader, had fired at a movement seen in the willows
twenty yards away. The aim was true. A groan was answer to the
shot, even before the exclamation of the leader was made. Young
Desha fell back, shot through the body. His friends at first did
not know that any one had been hurt, but to lie still under fire
ill suited their wild temper. With a common impulse, and without
order, they emptied their guns into the mass of dark figures ranged
along the beach. The air was filled with shouts and curses. The
attacking party advanced. The narrow beach of sand and mud was
covered with a struggling mass of fighting men, of which neither
party knew the nature of the other, and where the combatants could
scarce tell friend from foe.
"Get in, men!" cried Dunwody.


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