hrough, the Turk will be a busy man by
the day after tomorrow.'

The key turned in the door and Hussin stole in like a shade. It was
the signal for Sandy to leave.

'You fellows have given me a new lease of life,' he said. 'I've got a
plan now, and I can set my teeth and stick it out.'

He went up to Peter and gripped his hand. 'Good luck. You're the
bravest man I've ever met, and I've seen a few.' Then he turned
abruptly and went out, followed by an exhortation from Blenkiron to
'Get busy about the quadrupeds.'

Then we set about equipping Peter for his crusade. It was a simple
job, for we were not rich in properties. His get-up, with his thick
fur-collared greatcoat, was not unlike the ordinary Turkish officer
seen in a dim light. But Peter had no intention of passing for a Turk,
or indeed of giving anybody the chance of seeing him, and he was more
concerned to fit in with the landscape. So he stripped off the
greatcoat and pulled a grey sweater of mine over his jacket, and put on
his head a woollen helmet of the same colour. He had no need of the
map for he had long since got his route by heart, and what was once
fixed in that mind stuck like wax; but I made him take Stumm's plan and
paper, hidden below his shirt. The big difficulty, I saw, would be
getting to the Russians without getting shot, assuming he passed the
Turkish trenches. He could only hope that he would strike someone with
a smattering of English or German. Twice he ascended to the roof and
came back cheerful, for there was promise of wild weather.

Hussin brought in our supper, and Peter made up a parcel of food.
Blenkiron and I had both small flasks of brandy and I gave him mine.

Then he held out his hand quite simply, like a good child who is going
off to bed. It was too much for Blenkiron. With large tears rolling
down his face he announced that, if we all came through, he was going
to fit him into the softest berth that money could buy. I don't think
he was understood, for old Peter's eyes had now the faraway absorption
of the hunter who has found game. He was thinking only of his job.

Two legs and a pair of very shabby boots vanished through the trap, and
suddenly I felt utterly lonely and desperately sad. The guns were
beginning to roar again in the east, and in the intervals came the
whistle of the rising storm.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Peter Pienaar Goes to the Wars

This chapter is the tale that Peter told me--long