He put his weight against it, and
found that it rocked, but even so, he could not be quite certain that
their combined efforts could start it over the edge.
'Wait!' whispered Roy, and turning slipped away into the thick of the
trees. He was back in a minute, carrying a heavy piece of dead timber.
'This ought to do the trick,' he said softly. Ken nodded.
Meantime the Turks below, all unsuspicious of what was brewing, came
slowly and steadily along the road. Slowly, because not only is a
77-millimetre gun with its caisson a heavy weight, but also because the
road was merely an apology for one. It was nothing but a deeply rutted
track thick with sand and loose stones.
The men were in charge of a non-commissioned officer, a Turk like
themselves, and consequently were taking it very easy, strolling along,
smoking and chatting.
Roy drove his stake deep under the big rock, and gave a slight heave.
'She'll shift all right,' he whispered in a tone of quiet satisfaction.
'All right.
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