reventing reinforcements. But none came, and
the troop sat quietly in the scrub awaiting developments. The sound of
musketry echoed beautifully across the ravines in the clear stillness
of the night.

The Turks were lighting fires in the stunted pine growth a short
distance ahead, which lit with a red flickering light the overhanging
clay cliffs of Table Top rising sharply at the farther side of the
defile. Then the cold white glare of a searchlight settled on its flat
top, and in a few minutes heavy howitzer, 18-pounder and naval shells,
shrieked overhead and burst, flashing and roaring, on the crest. The
overhanging crag, her summit rent by an inferno of shell fire, her
inaccessible escarpment lit by the lurid glow of scrub fires, and the
fantastic smoke clouds eerily revealed by the searchlight, made
altogether a wild night battle scene of weird glory.

The bombardment ceased suddenly, the searchlight switched off, and part
of the regiment, who had crawled through the scrub on the more
accessible flank during the shelling, successfully rushed the Top. Mac
and his mates returned to their first scene of action and continued to
guard the communication sap. One or two Turks, who had hidden in the
scrub during the melee, gave their presence away, yelled with terror
and fell dead at the first shot. Poor old Joe, who had been severely
wounded by the first fusillade, lay dying, and soon his moans ceased
altogether. Others were dead, and some wounded.

About three in the morning they went on again to join the rest of the
regiment on Table Top. Struggling up the trench-like bottom of the
ravine, through the inky blackness of the thick scrub, they found
themselves at length in a _cul-de-sac_, with clay cliffs on either
side. The officer went on to reconnoitre, and then, to the great
discomfiture of the forty fellows huddled together in the clay
watercourse, a hundred or so Turks put in an appearance on the brink of
the steep cliff on the left. Babbling excitedly they looked curiously
down on the silent crouching troopers. Trapped, and entirely at the
Turks' mercy, Mac momentarily expected annihilation, and wondered
vaguely why it did not come. Retreat was hopeless, and he counselled
scrambling up the steep bank and attacking them. A tense half hour
passed. Then came a guarded whistle from high up on the right, and he
heard the faint command from his officer, "Climb up to the right."
Quitting the troop, he scra