round
work here which they have been set to guard.'

'And by the looks of it, they are the only men there,' Roy replied
eagerly. 'Ken, I think I see those coats materialising.'

'It might be done,' said Ken. 'As you say, they are probably the only men
in the place, whatever it is. And clearly they take their job pretty
easily. If we can catch them napping we ought to be able to polish them
off.'

'We will catch them napping, and we will polish them off,' Roy said
grimly. 'Mind you, Ken, they mustn't shoot.'

He began to creep forward on hands and knees. Ken kept abreast. A minute
later, they found themselves at the sloping entrance of what was evidently
a communication trench.

'We'd best keep on top,' whispered Roy. 'You go one side, I'll take the
other. When we get above them, we must both drop together. Jump right on
them, and put 'em out before they know what's up.'

There was no doubt about this being the best plan, and they started at
once. Roy went off with his usual confidence, but Ken, more highly strung,
felt his heart thumping as he crawled along the rough edge of the deep,
dark ditch.

It seemed to him that they went a very long way before he saw Roy stop and
lift one hand. He himself peered over cautiously. The stars gave just
enough light to see the two Turkish sentries.

They were leaning carelessly against the wall of the trench. One was
smoking, the other apparently rolling a cigarette. They were chatting in
low voices, and so far as Ken could make out, neither held his rifle.

Roy pointed to the one nearest Ken. Ken nodded, and rose very quietly to
his feet.

The Turk firmly believes that certain places, bare hill-sides especially,
are haunted by unpleasant bogies which he calls Djinns and Afrits. If ever
any Turk was fully convinced that a Djinn had him, it must have been the
sentry that Ken jumped on.

He landed absolutely straight on the man's shoulders, and down he went
flat on his face, with Ken on top of him. His forehead struck the opposite
wall of the trench, and though Ken wasted no time at all in getting hold
of his throat, this was quite unnecessary. The wretched Turk was limp as a
wet dish-rag and quite insensible.

'Good business, Ken!' said Roy, and glancing round Ken saw his chum
kneeling on the chest of the second man, one big hand compressing his
wind-pipe. 'Good business! We've got them both, and no fuss about it.
Confound it! These fellows don't run to handkerchiefs. W