"Mr. Nelson," said he, with a laugh, "if many more of you officers enter this cabin, I shall be a ruined man. Every shot that comes in here goes slap into that pantry, and I don't suppose I have a whole piece of crockery left. What did you wish?"
"I came, sir, to ask permission to take one of your Spencer rifles," answered Frank. "I believe I can drive those rascals away from there," he added, glancing through the port.
"Very well, you may try. But I don't bother my head about them. They can't shoot through this bulk head, that's certain. However, it makes me feel rather uncomfortable to know that I can't get out of here without running the risk of being shot;" and the captain stretched himself on the sofa again, and resumed his reading.
After considerable dodging, during which two more bullets were lodged in the captain's pantry, to the no small disgust of that gentleman, Frank succeeded in securing a rifle and cartridge-box from one of the racks in the cabin, and concealing himself behind the bulk-head, thrust his gun carefully out of the port, and waited for a shot.
The bank was scarcely fifty feet distant, but for a long time not a rebel showed himself, and Frank had about come to the conclusion that they had given up the fight, when he noticed a small gully, scarcely a foot wide, that ran down to the water's edge, and in that gully he saw the top of a head, and afterward discerned a pair of eyes that were looking straight into the port. It was a small mark to shoot at, but Frank had killed squirrels at that distance many a time; so, carefully raising his rifle, he took a quick aim, and fired, confident that there was one rebel less in the world. The ball landed in the bank, and raised a cloud of dust that for a moment concealed the effect of the shot; but it had scarcely cleared away, when a puff of smoke arose from the gully, and another bullet whizzed past Frank's head, and landed among the captain's crockery, showing that the rebel still maintained his position. Frank cautiously looked out, and saw the rebel hastily reloading his gun; but, before he could give him another shot, the deadly rifle was thrust over the bank, in readiness for another trial.
"O, I'm here yet, Yank!" shouted the rebel, as he saw Frank regarding him as if he could scarcely believe his eyes. "I'm here! and you want to keep close, or down comes your meat-house. This 'ere rifle shoots right smart."