cathedral. My position was not a pleasant one, for every time I raised
my head the soldiers in the belfry would cut loose at me; and, though
they failed to hit me, I did not dare to get up and run. Already the
trough was leaking like a sieve. There was no officer with the men in
the cafe, so they were taking the word from one of their own number,
and were firing regularly in volleys. They fired three times after I
took shelter. They were so near me that at each volley I could hear
the sweep of the bullets passing about two yards above my head.

But at the fourth volley a bullet just grazed my cheek and drove
itself into the wood of the trough. It was so near that the splinters
flew in my eyes. I looked back over my shoulder and shouted, "Look
out! You nearly hit me then. Fire higher."

One of the men in the cafe called back, "We can't hear you," and I
repeated, "Fire higher! You nearly hit me," and pointed with my finger
to where the big 44-calibre ball had left a black hole in the green
paint of the trough. When they saw this there were excited
exclamations from the men, and I heard the one who was giving the
orders repeating my warning. And then came the shock of another
volley. Simultaneously with the shock a bullet cut through the wide
brim of my sombrero and passed into the box about two inches below my
chin.

It was only then that I understood that this was no accident, but that
someone in the restaurant was trying to murder me. The thought was
hideous and sickening. I could bear the fire of the enemy from the
belfry--that was part of the day's work; the danger of it only excited
me; but the idea that one of my own side was lying within twenty feet
of me, deliberately aiming with intent to kill, was outrageous and