e wanted to know what
this man was doing there. Tony was searched, and the map discovered
secreted down the leg of his stocking. His heart quailed. He seemed
doomed. He had been so near success; now he seemed so far. He
inwardly shuddered at the prospect ahead. It would be death, and death
of a cruel and unrefined kind. Oh, the mental horror of that moment.
It was worse than a bayonet in the stomach, and that is bad enough. He
longed for death--death, sure and sharp. But it did not come. He was
seized and bound, then thrown into a corner to await the dawn, when
this coast patrol would take him back to the Turkish lines. His cords
cut into his hands and legs; his tongue was parched; his heart beating
at the coming of the dawn.

Still, the light of day brought a certain physical and mental relief.
He was given a drink; his cords were cut, and he was pushed out into
the open and marched off to the Turkish lines. He stumbled along, in
pain and confused. But deliverance was at hand.

True to their trust, his faithful Maoris were on the watch. One lay on
top of the cliffs as a guard for the boat hidden away in the cove
below; the other was a thousand yards ahead, directly in front of the
line of march which two out of the three Turkish soldiers were taking
him. This Maori's eyes were alert. A glance made him understand it
all. Filling his magazine, he lay low. They were then six hundred
yards away. Too far for a sure aim. He waited. Five hundred. Four
hundred. Three hundred. Yes; that would do. He settled down and
aimed.

Bang! The bullet told. The man on Tony's right dropped dead. The
subaltern realised the cause. He let drive with his fist at the other
man. The Turk stumbled back, recovered, then fled. But the Maori
nipped him like a farmer does a running hare. He, too, fell dead.
This was the one with the map which Tony had made. It was wrenched
from his haversack.

"Near shave, boss," said the Maori corporal, running up.

"Yes; but come on." They ran towards the cliff.

Bang! went a rifle. The faithful Maori corporal dropped dead at his
officer's feet. Tony looked to his front, and there was the third man
of the Turkish patrol coolly aiming at him too. He ducked just as a
rifle banged. For a minute he lay flat, and then a strange thing
happened. The second Maori, on the top of the cliff, unable to sight
his rifle at this assassin of his friend, was charging wildly down on
th