the corner of the building, which stood at such an angle that one side was out of sight of the windows of the church. Only a few feet away was the inner door of the shed, and this stood open for the space of several inches.
"What's the next move, cap?" was the question put to Ben by the men, all in a bunch. "Shall we rush for the shed?"
"Yes, but— Down!"
As Ben finished, he shoved back the man next to him, and all dropped quickly, for they understood by the young captain's manner that something unusual was on the wing. Several sharpshooters had come up out of a trap-door upon the roof of the church. A rapid volley, which hit nobody, and the rebels started to withdraw.
Ben's blood was up, and like a flash he aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. Two of the privates fired immediately after, and one of the sharpshooters was hit in the abdomen. His friends tried to drag him back to a place of safety, but they missed their grip upon him, and slowly he slid from the trap-door to the edge of the church roof, where he hung suspended for a full minute in mid-air, shrieking for help. But no one
