ing the enemy
rooted out of those confoundedly fine trenches of his for some time to
come.

But these things did not greatly depress the fine fellows who clung so
tenaciously to that square mile of crags and cliffs. The great spirit
of cheery optimism, the light-hearted, careless good fellowship, and
the muscle and grit of the invaders looked lightly at all this.
Regiments might dwindle sadly from dysentery and shrapnel, the
water-supply might be short and brackish, the flies might be getting
more persistent; but reinforcements would come some day soon, the
British at Cape Helles would get Achi Baba, and soon all would be well.

And so, with hard work, dysentery and flies, shelling, sniping and
bombing, cheery philosophy, and castles in the air, sweat, heat and
dirt, the summer days passed slowly by.

After a fortnight's absence from the front line, officially termed
"resting," but which was spent, as has been described, in outpost
fighting, sapping, road-making and all manner of hard work, the
Regiment returned to Russell's Top. As his Squadron was relegated to a
very comfortable section of the line, where disquieting bombs, shells
and what-not, seldom disturbed him, and where, at times, one could
stretch at full length and sleep, Mac infinitely preferred these
conditions of life to those of the previous fortnight.

So two weeks here passed placidly enough. When he was in the front
line he smoked, read, wrote, and played cards, or, when particularly
bored, rose up with his rifle and potted at elusive periscopes,
swinging shovels, loop-holes or indiscreet Turks, of whom there were
very, very few, in the Turkish lines. As often as not his little game
would be cut short by the reply of one of their snipers.

Then the tangled mass of trench and ravine over which his position
looked, Quinn's, Courtenay's, Dead Man's Ridge, and so on, was always
an interesting study. They were for ever scrapping there, and at
nights never for a moment rested. This was the weakest point in the
Anzac lines, and both sides knew it; but lately persistent hard work,
many lives and a great deal of courage were giving the Anzac fellows
the upper hand. Beyond these trenches lay the wide valley bounded on
the farther side by the frowning escarpments of Kilid Bahr
Plateau--strongly entrenched heights which Mac rather hoped it would be
some other person's job to storm when the necessity arose. Across the
valley and up a steep zigzag path