'If you don't, it's our chaps will fill you with lead.'
They all peeled off their Turkish overcoats, then carrying the German they
started along the ledge. Rounding the curve, Ken found that the ledge
widened and merged in the scrub-clad slope opposite the head of the little
bay.
He stopped and glanced round. The Turkish snipers were still busy, and the
sharp crack of cordite echoed from scores of different hiding-places along
the hills. He and his companions had about one hundred and fifty yards to
go before reaching the trench held by their battalions, and the light was
growing stronger every moment.
In spite of his anxiety to bring in his prisoner, it seemed clear that the
risk was too great. Their only chance of crossing the open in safety was
to duck and crawl.
'It's no use,' he said regretfully. 'We'll have to leave this chap behind.
We'll all be shot as full of holes as a sieve if we try to carry him.'
'Rats, Carrington!' retorted Roy Horan. 'Go home without our prisoner?
Never! Besides, the Turks won't shoot their own officer.
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