e Turk with his bayonet fixed.

"Allah! Allah!" shouted the Turk as he turned about and threw up his
arms. A moment later he was bayoneted to death.

Tony jumped up and ran on, for in the distance he saw other patrols
running towards the scene. The surviving Maori followed him to the
beach. The boat was launched, and they pulled out from the shore.
Danger, however, was not passed. Turkish patrols had found them.
Volley after volley rattled through the air. They splashed all round;
some hit the boat, one struck Tony in the arm, two more pierced the
oars. But out and out pulled the plucky pair till, at last, they were
clear of the fire.

"Hot shop, boss," said the Maori.

"Yes, a bit too hot!" muttered Tony as he bandaged his bleeding arm.

That night the Chief of Staff received the information desired. And a
few days later Lieut. Tony Brown added the letters "D.S.O." to his
name. Everybody said, "Why?" But the Chief of Staff simply smiled and
passed on.

CHAPTER X

VICTORY

Night was falling fast over the Australasian lines. The darkness was
welcome, for it brought a certain rest and coolness to the thousands of
sun-baked and weary men. For two days they had slaved like
navvies--digging, sand-bagging, reorganising trenches, improving
communications, and bringing up supplies, Maxims, and ammunition. It
was not the usual thing. Indeed, it was most unusual. Only the Staff
knew why, for this war has taught us that we must not advertise our
coming events. Of course the Tommies groused. They always do. It is
the privilege of the soldier. And Bill Buster was not behind in this
land of moaning.

"Thinks I'm an old mule. Me feet's skinned, me back's skinned, me
heart's skinned carryin' them blessed boxes of crackers. Oh, why did I
leave me little happy home?" he exclaimed, wiping the sweat off his
sunburnt brow.

"Had to--ye frizzly-faced bushwhacker," said Paddy.

"All this means that there's something doing," remarked Claud, cleaning
his monocle with a piece of rag.

"Ay, there's gaun tae be an attack. Say yer prayers the nicht, boys,"
added Sandy.

"Thank God!" uttered Claud. "I'm sick of inaction. I don't mind
death; but it's a beastly bore waiting to be killed. One can't quite
regulate supplies. Now, if to-morrow was the day for our dispatch, we
might have a beano out of our spare biscuits and Woodbines to-night."

"It ain't all beer and skittles, as you say," Bill said. "N