A number of figures were just visible, coming along
the ridge to the right.
'There are more than half a dozen,' he whispered sharply. 'More like
double that number. And that looks like an officer with them.'
'We'd best make ourselves scarce,' suggested Dave quietly.
'Too late for that,' answered Ken. 'They're bound to see us. Besides, if
they find the pit empty they'll only put fresh men here, and all the work
will be to do again.'
'Let's tackle 'em then,' said Roy Horan recklessly.
'Odds are too long,' replied Ken. He paused a moment, and glanced round.
'I've an idea,' he said swiftly. 'I believe we can fool them. Quick! Take
the coats off the dead men, and put them on. Their fezzes, too. In this
light they'll never know the difference.'
'But if they talk to us?' objected Roy.
'Then I'll talk back. I know the language.'
As he spoke, Ken was swiftly stripping one of the dead Turks of his
overcoat. The others did the same, and within an incredibly short time all
three were wearing dead men's clothes.
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