But both Dan and Dave stationed a couple of good shots at either corner, in the shelter of the buildings and took pot shots at the snipers ahead.
"Darrin, pick out two of your best men, and send them to lie down in the middle of the street, facing that roof-top," Trent ordered, then shouted the order across the open street to Dalzell.
Thus, with four jackies lying flat in the middle of the street, and offering no very good targets to the roof snipers, and with two men behind each protecting corner, the Mexicans on the roof were subjected to the sharpshooting fire of the eight best shots in Trent's command.
"Darley, you stand here on the sidewalk, and watch the roof-top across the street," Dave ordered.

"Hemingway, you get over on the other side and keep your eyes on the roof on this side of the street.

If you see any one on a rooftop, let him have it as fast as you can fire." Dan Dalzell, seeing that manoeuvre from across the street, stationed two roof-watchers similarly on his side.
"We'll stick to this sharpshooting stunt," Lieutenant Trent called in Darrin's ear, over the crackling of the rifles, "until we get a few of the Mexicans ahead.

Then we'll rush their position and try to drive them from it.

The only way-----" That was as far as Lieutenant Trent got, for Dave, making a sudden leap at his superior, seized him by the collar, jerking him backward a few feet and landing him on his back.
"What the-----" sputtered Lieutenant Trent.