Give him a drop of
your brandy, Roy.'
As Roy unscrewed the stopper, the Turk's eyes opened, and he stared up at
his rescuers in blank amazement.
'Englishmen!' he muttered.
Roy put the flask to his lips, but he shook his head.
'Water,' he said in Turkish.
'It's against his religion to drink wine or spirits,' Ken explained to
Roy, and put his own water-bottle to the man's lips.
'I thank you,' said the Turk with grave courtesy. He sat up and looked
round at the ruin on the road.
'We did not know that your guns were near enough to drop shell upon us,'
he said. 'Nor had we any notion that your troops had advanced so far
inland.
'Well, it is Allah's will,' he continued resignedly. 'And our fate for
being driven into an unjust war. I am your prisoner.'
'We don't want any prisoners,' Ken answered with a smile, and at his
fluent Turkish the man's dark eyes opened in evident surprise. 'You are
free.'
The Turk stared.
'Then you are separated from your own regiment,' he said keenly, and by
his accent and language, Ken realised that he was a man of some education.
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