t close to the
Colonel's heels, preserving the body and life of the bravest man in the
Australasian force. In that awful hour Killem could often be heard
shouting out, "Thanks, boys, thanks!"

At last tenacity and courage told. The Turks broke and fled, yelling
in pain and fear. But the price of victory had indeed been costly.
Still, it was worth it all. The position had been saved.
Australasians had again written deep in the annals of war a story of
valour as great as Corunna or Waterloo.

* * * * *

"Paddy," shouted Bill as they jumped back into the trenches.

"Yis."

"Where's Claud?"

"He's hit," interjected a sergeant. "I saw him fall."

"What--dead?"

"Couldn't say." And the sergeant passed on. War does not allow of
sentiment or lengthy harangues.

"Curse them!" said Bill, throwing down his rifle in anger. And then
this great, strong man collapsed with grief. When a soldier weeps it
is sad. This was but the climax of a highly nervous day. Bill's
heart, like every bushman's heart, was full of that faith and devotion
which passes all understanding. Claud was a pal whom he loved like a
mother or a brother.

"D---- their bullets! I'm going back to get him," he muttered,
preparing to jump out again.

"Paddy Doolan's wid you," said the Irishman. They both jumped out into
the still bullet-swept zone.

"Come back, you fools," roared a sergeant.

There was no answer. Bill would not allow discipline or danger to
interfere with the call of duty or friendship. On their hands and
knees they crawled round the heaps of dead and dying.

"Here he is--here he is, poor boy! Poor boy!" said Paddy as he gazed
at the pale, bloodless face of Claud below some battered Turks.

"He's livin', he's livin'. God be thanked!" mumbled the faithful
Irishman as he crossed himself. Bending near, he pulled the listless
form from under the dead weight of the men above. Claud groaned.

"That's a good sign, Paddy, eh?"

"Sure, an' he'll drink a glass wid us yet! But, Heavens! what a hole!"
exclaimed the Irishman, looking at the gaping wound in Claud's shoulder.

"Get his dressing out," said Bill.

Paddy made to rip the dressing out of Claud's jacket. Alas! man
proposes and the Turk disposes. A sniper's rifle pinged, and a bullet
hit Paddy in the arm. It fell, shattered and useless.

"Back, Paddy--into the trenches for your life. I'll carry Claud."

The brave Irishman, realisi