k 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