'We've got to bunk like blazes if we want to save our skins.'
CHAPTER VIII
THE HUNTERS HUNTED
Ken was standing, looking half dazed. His rifle was on the ground, and he
was holding his left arm with his right hand.
'Are you hurt, Ken?' asked Roy, and there was real concern in his voice.
The two had known one another less than a week, yet each had come to
respect and like the other.
'No. I'm not hit. The bullet struck the barrel of my rifle. It numbed my
arm for the moment. I'm quite all right, but my rifle's done for, so far
as firing goes. Rotten luck, losing Kemp.'
'Never mind Kemp,' said Roy, serious for once. 'These Turkish Johnnies are
between us and home. And they're after us. It'll take us all our time to
get clear. Which way are we to go?'
As he spoke a shout came from the next gully. It was Kemp's voice, and he
was evidently calling his men up to pursue the two Britishers.
Ken glanced round quickly. He saw at once that it was out of the question
to make straight back for their own lines.
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