way from their own people, right into the heart
of the enemy country, and rack his brains as he might, Ken could see no
plan for getting back. There was nothing for it but to try to shake off
their pursuers and trust to chance for the rest.

Neither of them was very fresh, for they had been fighting and running for
the better part of two hours. Even so, they managed to keep ahead of the
Turks, and though every now and then a few shots came rattling up from
below they had got far enough ahead to be out of easy range.

They were now at a considerable height, but still a long way from the top
of the hill. The scrub was thinning out and the ground becoming more and
more stony. The worst of it was that the ravine up which they were
travelling was getting steadily more shallow. A very little farther, and
it ended altogether. Beyond, was nothing but bare hill-side, where they
would--barring the scattered rocks--be in full view of the enemy.

Ken dropped to a walk.

'This won't do, Roy. Once we're out in the open, we shall be the very
finest kind of targets.'

Roy shrugged his great shoulders.

'There's nothing else for it. We can't make a ravine. What price taking up
a position here behind these rocks and trying to fight 'em off? We've got
plenty of cartridges.'

Ken shook his head.

'No earthly use. They could get round above us. We shouldn't have a dog's
chance.'

'Then we'd best shift on topside,' replied Roy coolly. 'They can't get
above us there unless they raise a balloon. Come on, old man, we can dodge
in and out among these rocks.'

Ken glanced back down the hill. Already the first of their pursuers were
in sight round the curve of the ravine, barely three hundred yards away.
They were jogging along quite steadily. It was clear that they felt
absolutely sure of their men--so sure that there was no need to hurry.
Kemp, conspicuous in his ugly German khaki, was shepherding them upwards.

Ken bit his lip. Inwardly he vowed that he would never be taken alive by
the ex-steward. He had a pretty shrewd idea of what his fate and Roy's
would be if they fell into Kemp's clutches.

'Come on, then,' he said desperately, and springing up over the shallow
bank of the ravine made a rush for the spot where the rocks seemed to be
thickest.

A shout from below told them that their manoeuvre was observed.

'They're spreading out,' said Roy, looking back over his shoulder.

'They're not shooting, anyhow,' answered Ken, a