The man at the rear of the guardhouse moved silently along
the side of the structure until he stood within a few feet of the
unsuspecting sentinel, hidden from him by the corner of the
building. A heavy revolver dangled from his right hand. He
held it loosely by the barrel, and waited.
For five minutes the silence of the night was unbroken,
then from the east came a single shot, followed immediately by
a scattering fusillade and a chorus of hoarse cries.
Billy Byrne smiled. The sentry resumed indications of
quickness. From the barracks beyond the guardhouse came sharp
commands and the sounds of men running. From the opposite
end of the town the noise of battle welled up to ominous
proportions.
Billy heard the soldiers stream from their quarters and a
moment later saw them trot up the street at the double.
Everyone was moving toward the opposite end of the town
except the lone sentinel before the guardhouse. The moment
seemed propitious for his attempt.
Billy peered around the corner of the guardhouse. Conditions
were just as he had pictured they would be. The sentry
stood gazing in the direction of the firing, his back toward the
guardhouse door and Billy.
With a bound the American cleared the space between
himself and the unsuspecting and unfortunate soldier.
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