'It looks to me as if the ledge you're on broadens a good bit to my left. You wait where you are, and Roy and I will come round and give you a hand.'

Dave's head disappeared, and Ken sat down, with his back against the bluff. He had had a bad shake up, and was glad of a few moments' rest. He was quite safe where he was, for the bluff protected him from stray Turkish bullets.

Down below, through the mist, boats were shooting landwards from the transports, bringing more men, stores of all kinds, ammunition, and materials for setting up a wireless installation. He saw that they were under constant fire from the snipers on the cliffs above, and though for the moment the haze protected them, the mist was fast rising. It was going to be precious awkward when the full light came.

In a much shorter time than he had expected, his two companions appeared in sight around the curve of the ledge. In the dawn light he could see that their khaki was torn and covered with stains, while their faces were scratched and bleeding. But both were in splendid spirits.

'My word!' exclaimed Roy. 'This is what you might call a night out with a vengeance.'

'The night's all right,' returned Ken, 'but it's getting a jolly sight too near day to suit me. If we don't get back to our trench before this fog goes we shall be a target for half the Turkish army.'

'It's not far,' said Dave consolingly.

'Far enough, by the time we've carried in this Johnny,' replied Ken, pointing to the German.

Dave looked doubtfully at the corpulent form of the Prussian.

'He's not exactly a featherweight, by the look of him. However, here goes.' He stooped as he spoke and took the officer by the shoulders.

'Catch hold of his legs, Roy,' he said to Horan. 'No, Ken,' as Carrington stepped forward, 'you've done your bit. Roy and I will tote your stout prisoner back.'

'First, take off those Turkey carpets you're wearing,' said Ken quickly. 'If you don't, it's our chaps will fill you with lead.'

They all peeled off their Turkish overcoats, then carrying the German they started along the ledge. Rounding the curve, Ken found that the ledge widened and merged in the scrub-clad slope opposite the head of the little bay.

He stopped and glanced round. The Turkish snipers were still busy, and the sharp crack of cordite echoed from scores of different hiding-places along the hills. He and his companions had about one hundred and fifty yards to go before reaching the trench held by their battalions, and the light was growing stronger every moment.

In spite of his anxiety to bring in his prisoner, it seemed clear that the risk was too great. Their only chance of crossing the open in safety was to duck and crawl.

'It's no use,' he said regretfully. 'We'll have to leave this chap behind. We'll all be shot as full of holes as a sieve if we try to carry him.'

'Rats, Carrington!' retorted Roy Horan. 'Go home without our prisoner? Never! Besides, the Turks won't shoot their own officer. Come on, Dave,' he said, and before Ken could say another word the two were off as hard as they could go, carrying their heavy burden.

Ken had many doubts as to the Turks refraining from shooting, for fear of hitting the German. In fact, knowing as he did the feeling which existed between the bullying Prussian and the placid Turk, he rather thought the case would be exactly the opposite.

Whatever the reason, at any rate they had covered nearly half the distance before they began to draw fire. Then bullets began to ping ominously close, and little jets of dust to rise from the dry soil all around them.

Suddenly Ken's hat flew from his head, and as he stooped quickly to recover it, the fat German gave a yell like a stuck pig, and kicked out so convulsively that his bearers incontinently dropped him.

In an instant he was on his feet, and running like a rabbit, at the same time giving vent to a series of sharp yelps like a beaten puppy.

'The blighter! He was shamming!' roared Roy, darting off in pursuit, regardless of the bullets.

'It was a bullet woke him up anyhow,' exclaimed Dave, as he scurried after.

The Prussian was beside himself with pain. He had been shot through one hand, and there is no more agonising injury. He ran blindly, and as it chanced almost in a straight line for the trench.

A score of heads popped up to see what was happening, and when their owners realised the truth a roar of laughter burst out all down the trench.

It was not until the German was on the very edge of the trench that he realised where he was. He spun round to bolt.

But Roy was at his heels.

'No, ye don't, fatty,' said the big New Zealander, and catching the man by the scruff of the neck, gave him a tremendous push which sent him flying over into the trench. Roy sprang down after him, and a moment later, Dave and Ken hurled themselves into cover.

'Is it steeplechasing ye are, or what fool's game is it ye are playing?' demanded Sergeant O'Brien, while the rest shrieked with laughter.

'He—he's my prisoner,' panted Ken. 'And—and, sergeant, did Norton get back?'

'He did. Come along wid ye, and make your report to the colonel.'

Colonel Conway, who had been on foot all night, was taking a few minutes' much needed rest in a rough dug-out. But at sight of Ken, he was on his feet again in a moment.

'I am very glad to see you, Carrington,' he said cordially. 'I had begun to be afraid that you and your companions would not get back. And yet I knew you had succeeded in your enterprise, for the enfilading fire ceased very shortly after you left.'

Standing at attention, Ken gave his report. He made much of the doings of Dave and Roy, but modestly suppressed his own. The colonel, however, was not deceived.

'You have done very well indeed,' he said, with a warmth that brought the colour to Ken's cheeks. 'Your destruction of the machine gun was a particularly plucky and useful piece of work. I shall see that your conduct and that of all your companions is mentioned in the proper quarter. Meantime, you are promoted to corporal.'

Ken's heart was very nearly bursting with pride.

'Thank you, sir,' he said with a gulp, and saluting again turned away.

The colonel stopped him.

'You had better get some food,' he said. 'We shall be moving out of this very shortly.'

'Faith, ye didn't do so badly after all, lad,' said O'Brien. 'Ate quickly now, for I'm thinking 'tis us for the top of the cliff before we're a dale older.'

Bread, bully beef, and a drink of water out of their bottles. That was the simple bill of fare. But Ken's exertions during the night had put a sharp edge on his appetite, and he enjoyed the plain meal.

The fog was fast disappearing under the rays of the newly risen sun, and the firing grew heavier every minute. The hills all round were alive with snipers, but their fire was directed not so much on the trench held by the Australians as on the boats which were landing reinforcements on the beach below.

It was in the boats and on the beach that the casualties were heaviest. The troops that were landed had to run the gauntlet for fully fifty yards before reaching the cover of the scrub on the cliff, and matters were worse still for the bluejackets pulling the empty boats back to the ships. They were potted at without a chance of returning the enemy fire.

But they stuck it out finely, and already all the wounded had been taken off, while reinforcements had reached the upper trench, sufficient in number to make up for the first losses.

'What's the colonel waiting for?' asked Dave. 'Why don't we go on up and smoke out those blighted snipers?'

'It's ammunition, I fancy. And there's a couple of maxims coming up. We shall need those if we have to dig ourselves in under fire.'

'More digging—oh, Christmas!' growled Dave. 'I didn't come here to dig. I could do that in my old dad's garden at home.'

Ken chuckled. 'You'll find the spade'll do as much to win this war as the guns and rifles. There's heaps of trenching in store for us, I can tell you.'

There was some delay about the maxims, and time went on without any order to move. The men began to grumble. It was hard indeed to lie and watch their comrades below being picked off, one after another, by these abominable sharpshooters, without a chance of hitting back.

'Look at that!' growled Roy Horan, pointing to a stalwart bluejacket who had just dropped at his oar as the boat pushed off the beach. 'It's murder! That's what it is. Sheer murder! Why the blazes can't the ships turn loose?'

'Because they've got nothing to fire at. You can't chuck away 6-inch shells on the off chance of killing one sniper. You wait until the Turks appear in force. Then you'll see what naval guns can do.'

'I don't believe the swine will ever appear in force,' said Roy, who had lost all his good humour and was looking absolutely savage. 'It breaks me all up to see our chaps shot down like rabbits without a chance of getting their own back.'

There was worse to come. From somewhere high up among the scrub-clad heights came a dull heavy crash, and almost instantly the clear air above the beach was filled with puffs of gray white smoke which floated like balls of cotton wool.

'The guns! The beggars have got those guns up,' ran a mutter along the trench.

'About time for the ships to get to work,' growled Roy, his big handsome face knitted in a scowl.

'Ay, if they only knew where the guns were,' replied Ken. 'But that's the deuce of it. They can't spot 'em without planes, and there are no planes here yet.'

Crash! A second gun spoke, and another shell burst above the beach. From that time on the firing was continuous. The whole beach was scourged with shrapnel, and landing operations became perilous in the extreme.

The men in the trenches fidgeted and swore beneath their breath. There is nothing more trying to troops than to see their comrades suffering and yet be unable to help them.

'Can't we do something?' muttered Dave, as he saw a boat from one of the ships smashed to matchwood by a blast of shrapnel, and her crew and contents scattered into the sea. 'Can't we do something? It's enough to drive one loony to watch this sort of thing.'

Almost as he spoke there was a sudden flutter of excitement, as an order was passed from man to man down the trench.

They were to advance and take up a new position on the top of the slope.