had no
inducements to delay, for he thought he could hear behind him the
movement of the Turkish working party, and was in terror that a flare
might reveal him and a volley accompany his retreat.

From one shell-hole to another he wormed his way, till he struck an old
ruinous communication trench which led in the right direction. The
Turks must have been forced back in the past week, and the Russians
were now in the evacuated trenches. The thing was half full of water,
but it gave Peter a feeling of safety, for it enabled him to get his
head below the level of the ground. Then it came to an end and he
found before him a forest of wire.

The Turk in his signal had mentioned half an hour, but Peter thought it
was nearer two hours before he got through that noxious entanglement.
Shelling had made little difference to it. The uprights were all
there, and the barbed strands seemed to touch the ground. Remember, he
had no wire-cutter; nothing but his bare hands. Once again fear got
hold of him. He felt caught in a net, with monstrous vultures waiting
to pounce on him from above. At any moment a flare might go up and a
dozen rifles find their mark. He had altogether forgotten about the
message which had been sent, for no message could dissuade the
ever-present death he felt around him. It was, he said, like following
an old lion into bush when there was but one narrow way in, and no road
out.

The guns began again--the Turkish guns from behind the ridge--and a
shell tore up the wire a short way before him. Under cover of the
burst he made good a few yards, leaving large portions of his clothing
in the strands. Then, quite suddenly, when hope had almost died in his
heart, he felt the ground rise steeply. He lay very still, a
star-rocket from the Turkish side lit up the place, and there in front
was a rampart with the points of bayonets showing beyond it. It was
the Russian hour for stand-to.

He raised his cramped limbs from the ground and shouted 'Friend!
English!'

A face looked down at him, and then the darkness again descended.

'Friend,' he said hoarsely. 'English.'

He heard speech behind the parapet. An electric torch was flashed on
him for a second. A voice spoke, a friendly voice, and the sound of it
seemed to be telling him to come over.

He was now standing up, and as he got his hands on the parapet he
seemed to feel bayonets very near him. But the voice that spoke was
kindly, so with a heav