'Nothing but a shell hole,' he explained, 'but it's a regular crater. Must
have been done by one of our twelve-inch guns. Two dead Turks alongside
it.'
'Rum place for a shell to fall,' Roy answered, straining his eyes through
the gloom.
'It means there's a fort somewhere near,' said Ken. 'Our people don't
waste shells on empty hill-sides, I can tell you.'
'Wish it wasn't so infernally dark,' growled Roy.
'I'm jolly glad it is,' answered Ken emphatically. 'Put it any way you
like, it helps us more than the enemy.'
They saw nothing of the fort, if there was one, and after crossing some
very broken ground came down into a narrow valley, in the centre of which
was the bed of a water-course, now dry.
'That's better,' whispered Ken, as he dropped down into it. 'This ought to
bring us out on the beach.'
The bottom was sun-baked mud and dry stones which, together, formed about
as unpleasant a combination for walking over as could well be imagined,
especially since it was absolutely necessary to move without a sound.
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