United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
While he was waiting, he took a couple of horse-blankets from the
harness-room, and fastened them up before the only two windows in the
loft. This made the place quite dark, though there was light enough to
enable him to find his way. Then he kneeled about ten feet from the
open window, darkened to within a foot of the bottom. From this point
he discovered, by looking through the window directly opposite his
opening, three men sitting on a bed.
He fired his rifle, and saw one of the ruffians drop on the floor.
CHAPTER XXX
THE SURRENDER OF CAPTAIN GRUNDY
Deck Lyon reloaded his rifle without a moment's delay; then resuming
his kneeling posture, he gazed at the window again. The ruffian had
fallen forwards from the bed, and his companions had picked him up. The
observer could see that he had not been killed. The other two laid him
on the bed, and it was evident that he had been severely wounded. They
examined him, but of course the result could not be known to the
lieutenant.
While one of them was tying a handkerchief around the head of the
wounded man, the other went to the window. A pane of glass had been
broken, and this must have assured him that the ball had come from
outside of the mansion. Then he proceeded to look about the
surroundings in search of the person who had fired the shot, confining
his gaze to the ground. If he had reasoned at all over the matter,
which perhaps his education did not enable him to do, he might have
realized that the bullet did not come from the ground.
The man had thrown the window wide open, and was making a very
scrutinizing examination of every part of the courtyard. He could see
plainly whatever was in front of the window; but this did not seem to
satisfy him. He thrust half his body out of the opening, looking both
sides of him, as though it had been possible to fire a rifle around a
corner. The fellow was certainly stupid enough to be shot, and Deck did
not wait any longer to do his work.
The ball struck him in the head as he was stretching his neck to the
utmost to enlarge the extent of his vision to a point from which the
fatal bullet could not possibly have come. If he could have imagined a
line from the round hole in the pane of glass to the point where his
comrade's head had been, it would have pointed directly to Deck's
locality when he discharged the rifle.
[Illustration: "THE BALL STRUCK HIM IN THE HEAD." _Page 388._]
The ruffian dropped from the window-sill to the ground with a heavy
thud, and did not move again. The ball had penetrated his brain, and he
was the victim of his unscientific observations. But the lieutenant did
not remove his gaze from the open window. It seemed very like slaughter
to shoot down the enemy in this manner, and a twinge of conscience
disturbed him. But he reasoned that he had given the ruffians a chance
to surrender, which they had refused to accept. Then they were pirates,
robbers, making war for gain against friend and foe alike.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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