Something whizzed past Ken's head, and a heavy blow on the left shoulder
brought him to his knees. The second Turk had struck at him with his rifle
butt, and missing his head, caught him on the shoulder. He saw a savage
grin on the man's face as he raised his rifle again to finish the job and
avenge his comrade. It looked all odds on Ken's brains being scattered the
next instant.
Before the rifle could descend a shadow flashed across, and something
crashed upon the Turk's head with such fearful force as cracked his skull
like an egg-shell. For a moment his body remained upright, then it swayed
and fell sideways like a log to the ground.
'Gosh, but I thought I was too late!' panted Roy Horan. 'And confound it
all, I've cracked the stock of my rifle.'
'You saved my head from being cracked anyhow,' answered Ken. 'But Dave's
hit. Give us a hand back with him.'
'I'll carry him,' said Roy quickly, and dropping his useless rifle, he
quickly hoisted Burney on his broad back, and set off at a run for the
trench.
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