out.

"You don't mean to say it's you, Mr. Dashwood!" came up a tremulous
voice very unlike Hawke's own. "Drop, sir, your toes ain't above seven
feet from the ground. Tiddler and me's been looking for you and the
Captain for the last three hours."

"Well, you've found us," said Dennis, still clinging where he was; "and
I hope you're in time. My brother should be up in the building by now,
but he can only hobble on one leg, and the whole caboodle may be blown
up any minute. What's to be done?"

Harry Hawke did not hesitate, but, slipping off his pack, handed his
rifle to Tiddler, who stood speechless with amazement.

"Give us a back, Cockie," said Hawke. "Can you hold on, sir, if I climb
up yer? Will the ladder bear?"

"It'll bear, and I can stick it if you're not too long," replied Dennis,
twining his fingers tighter round the ironwork and bracing his arms for
the strain.

The German shells had ceased to hum past the eastern end of the brewery,
although they were falling rapidly about the captured trench, where the
Reedshires were ensconced five hundred yards to the south.

"For Heaven's sake look sharp, man!" urged Dennis, and then he felt
Hawke grasp his knees, pass a hand over his shoulder, hang there a
moment, and grab at the broken step overhead.

"Sorry if I 'urt you, sir," muttered the Pride of Shoreditch, planting
his hobnailed boot where his hand had been the moment before; and,
active as a cat, he gained the iron ladder which had so nearly meant a
broken neck for Dennis Dashwood.

"Now, sir!" panted Harry Hawke, seizing his officer's right wrist, "let
go yer 'old while I give yer a 'aul. Up we come!"

Dennis gave a spring at the same time, and his fingers clutched the
banister that supported the rail. The rest was easy, and between them he
scrambled to his feet as a curious stumping made the iron gallery ring
above them, and Bob's voice was heard calling, "Where have you got to,
Den?"

They helped him down the broken ladder, Dennis explaining the position
as he hopped between them.

"Can't say I fancy that drop you speak of, with this gammy leg of mine,"
said Bob ruefully; "but I must chance it. I suppose you haven't got a
coil of rope concealed about your valuable person, Hawke?"

"Not arf, I 'aven't, sir," grinned the practical one, unfastening one
end of the Mauser sling and tying the other round the last rung. "I
reckon this'll do us."

"Bravo, Hawke," said Dennis gratefully. "Now then, B