This is my section of the line. They'll be playing
old Harry with my permanent way if we don't stop 'em.'

'Right O!'

'Hrrmph!' said the machine gun through all its five noses as the
subaltern drew the lever home. The empty cartridges clashed on the floor
and the smoke blew back through the truck. There was indiscriminate
firing at the rear of the train, and return fire from the darkness
without and unlimited howling. Dick stretched himself on the floor, wild
with delight at the sounds and the smells.

'God is very good--I never thought I'd hear this again. Give 'em hell,
men. Oh, give 'em hell!' he cried.

The train stopped for some obstruction on the line ahead and a party
went out to reconnoitre, but came back, cursing, for spades. The
children of the desert had piled sand and gravel on the rails, and
twenty minutes were lost in clearing it away. Then the slow progress
recommenced, to be varied with more shots, more shoutings, the steady
clack and kick of the machine guns, and a final difficulty with a
half-lifted rail ere the train came under the protection of the roaring
camp at Tanai-el-Hassan.

'Now, you see why it takes an hour and a half to fetch her through,'
said the subaltern, unshipping the cartridge-hopper above his pet gun.

'It was a lark, though. I only wish it had lasted twice as long.
How superb it must have looked from outside!' said Dick, sighing
regretfully.

'It palls after the first few nights. By the way, when you've settled
about your mules, come and see what we can find to eat in my tent. I'm
Bennil of the Gunners--in the artillery lines--and mind you don't fall
over my tent-ropes in the dark.'

But it was all dark to Dick. He could only smell the camels, the
hay-bales, the cooking, the smoky fires, and the tanned canvas of the
tents as he stood, where he had dropped from the train, shouting for
George. There was a sound of light-hearted kicking on the iron skin of
the rear trucks, with squealing and grunting. George was unloading the
mules.

The engine was blowing off steam nearly in Dick's ear; a cold wind of
the desert danced between his legs; he was hungry, and felt tired and
dirty--so dirty that he tried to brush his coat with his hands. That was
a hopeless job; he thrust his hands into his pockets and began to count
over the many times that he had waited in strange or remote places for
trains or camels, mules or horses, to carry him to his business. In
those days he could s