Ned stretched himself and felt his muscles. He was strong once more and
his head was clear. He did not believe that the weakness and dizziness
would come again. But his tongue and throat were dry, and one of the
youths who had stood with him gave him a drink from his canteen. Ned
would gladly have made the drink a deep one, but he denied himself, and,
when he returned the canteen, its supply was diminished but little. He
knew better than the giver how precious the water would become.
Ned was standing at the edge of the hollow, and his head was just about
on a level with the surrounding prairie. After his look at the Mexican
circle, something whistled by his ear. It was an unpleasant sound that
he knew well, one marking the passage of a bullet, and he dropped down
instantly. Then he cautiously raised himself up again, and, a half dozen
others who had heard the shot did the same. One rose a little higher
than the rest and he fell back with a cry, a bullet in his shoulder.
Ned was surprised and puzzled. Whence had come these shots? There was
the line of Mexican cavalry, well out of range, and, beyond the
horsemen, were the infantry. He could see nothing, but the wounded
shoulder was positive proof that some enemy was near.
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