its echoes and re-echoes among the nullahs and cliffs, had scarcely
ever ceased. And now, from opposing parapets, cautious heads began to
appear, Red Cross and Red Crescent flags were brought into the open.
Large burying parties followed, and soon thousands of Cornstalks and
Mussulmans were burying each others' dead. Thousands lined the
parapets, scanning those acres of which they had had before but wily
glances, or had scurried over in the wave of an attack. No one was
going to miss the show. The Cove was deserted, and the Infantryman and
the Service Corps man stood boldly side by side on the parapet.

Of the work itself little can be said. Mac was on duty in the first
line, and was not allowed to leave it to investigate the secrets of no
man's land, but he knew well enough of the huddled figures lying in
clusters in that green scrub, which hid much. But in parts the scrub
had been worn from the earth by the constant ripping of the bullets.
There, partly shielded by withering branches lay withering bodies,
mostly in strange postures, sometimes one above the other with rusting
rifles, discarded equipment, and odd bits of wire. Often scraps of
torn cloth clung to the jagged stems of shattered shrubs, and all was a
scene of desolation unutterable.

So numerous were the dead that all day long the burying went on. Some
of the workers, resting from their labours, attempted conversation with
the Turkish parties, but ignorance of each others' language proved a
difficulty. Still they smiled and gesticulated and exchanged
cigarettes.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, parties finished their work and
returned, no man's land became gradually untenanted, the curious were
satisfied, and melted from the parapets, a sudden heat shower damping
their ardour, and gradually the old scene came back. About four the
white flags with their red emblems disappeared and every one retired
discreetly into his trench. Soon a stray shot rang out, and the
armistice was over. Snipers were at their old dodges, and later in the
evening Mac's section received for some time the attentions of an enemy
mountain gun, which was new to this part of the line.

The following day brought a tragedy which sank deep into Mac's heart.

Out on the left flank, near where the _Albion_ had been ashore a few
mornings back, a man-o'-war had always lain since the days of the
landing. There had been some anxiety certainly on account of the
submarine exc