"We've got to cross that road.

I imagine our greatest danger is from sharpshooters at the head of it." "Stoop low and make a dash.

Here goes!" Bent almost double, they made a hop, skip and jump and were in the bushes on the other side, where they lay still for a few moments, panting, while the hair on their heads, which had risen up, lay down again.

Quick as had been their passage, fully a dozen ferocious bullets whined over their heads.
"I hate skirmishers," said Harry.

"It's one thing to fire at the mass of the enemy, and it's another to pick out a man and draw a bead on him." "I hate 'em, too, especially when they're firing at me!" said Dalton.
"But, Harry, we're doing no good lying here in the bushes, trying to press ourselves into the earth so the bullets will pass over our heads.
Heavens! What was that ?" "Only the biggest shell that was ever made bursting near us.