The colonel issued a call for volunteers, but of all that body of men not one would risk crossing the main road. Commanded as it was by the insurgent artillery, it did, indeed, seem to be a fatal mission. The Americans began to chafe and fidget. If Colonel Lazard did not soon make a decisive move, the insurgents would begin the advance, in which case the key to the situation would be theirs. With the rebels in control of the city and the approaches, every one of the party from the _Beale_ realized that their chance of rejoining their ship would be remote in the extreme. A drum-head court-martial would be the best they could expect, if their part in the sinking of the _Bolivar_ and the _Manueal Calvo_ were ever known. A short distance beyond their present situation Ned’s sharp eyes had already noted a dip in the road. It was but a slight depression, to be sure, but into the boy’s mind had suddenly come the idea that it could be utilized. Brush grew close up to it on both sides, so that it would be possible to approach it without being observed from the north. The dip, or so Ned believed, was deep enough to hide the form of any one crawling across. Riding to the side of the midshipman, he confided his bold plan to him. It was nothing more nor less than to dismount and attempt to cross the gun-commanded road by the dip. At first Stark shook his head. “I cannot permit it, Strong. It is far too risky. I am your officer, and would be responsible for you if anything happened.” “But I don’t believe anything will happen, sir,” exclaimed Ned. “If I did I would not risk it.” “Hum,” pondered the middy, “it’s certain that something has to be done. None of these cowards here will make a move, and if the artillery isn’t on that hill within the next few moments it’s ‘good-by,’ republic.” “Then I can try it, sir?” asked Ned joyously. “It is against my judgment, but--well, yes, but for Heaven’s sake be careful.” “You can depend upon that, sir,” rejoined Ned. He slipped from his horse and crept off into the undergrowth before any of Lazard’s cowardly command realized what he was about. Throwing himself flat on his stomach, the boy wormed his way forward through the brush till he reached a point which, he concluded, must be about opposite the dip in the road. Cautiously he raised his head and saw, to his joy, that only a few yards now separated him from his coveted depression. His heart began to beat thick and fast. Ned knew well that the road which he must cross was commanded from above by the insurgent guns. If the dip were not as deep as he calculated--if it would not keep him hidden--he would be shot down like a dog. “Now for it,” he whispered to himself, lying flat once more and wriggling forward, as before. Suddenly he stopped dead and listened intently. He had heard a sound in the brush behind him.