ed its accustomed way, and
the normal exchange of bombs, shells and bullets went on, though
Turkish artillery fire was increasing in strength.

On Thursday, August 5th, the Regiment sorrowfully packed up all
unnecessaries and piled them in the regimental dump. Mac grieved to
part with the unfinished half of the Lemnos provisions, for heaven only
knew when they might see them again, and probably some one else would
thrive on them.

That night the Regiment moved out through the wire gate, and crowded on
the platforms at the back of No. 1 Outpost, there to remain till the
following evening, when the battle was to open.

CHAPTER XXI

NO. 3, TABLE TOP AND SUVLA BAY

The Regiment, stretched in close lines on the terraces, slept soundly.
For many days ahead there would be little opportunity of resting, and
for many there would be but one more sleep. They did not rouse till
well after dawn, for there was nothing to do that day but fill in time.
Mac again overhauled all his equipment, paying particular attention to
his rifle, bayonet and ammunition, seeing that everything was
accessible and that all ran smoothly. Then the section rigged a
blanket between piled arms, and sat down in its shade for a game of
cards. That palled after a time, and Mac drew from his knapsack a
book, _The Cloister and the Hearth_, and was soon deep in its pages.
Then came lunch, and in the afternoon orders were read, with inspiring
messages from the Generals, and a few words from the C.O.

A few aeroplanes burred overhead, the exchange of firing followed its
normal daily course, quieting rather in the heat of midday; but to the
waiting troops the long hours dragged. That wonder of what the future
held, that ominous quiet before the storm, the preparations for
battle--all made the day long.

At last the sun sank behind the rugged islands in a glorious riot of
colour, the high eastern hill-tops which should be British by dawn
gradually grew black against the appearing stars. The Regiment,
water-bottles filled and in final trim, stood leaning on their rifles.
Occasionally some one gave a hitch to his gear, others talked in
subdued tones, or gazed solemnly out to sea where the black outlines of
Imbros and Samothrace stood against the last glow of departing day. At
this glorious hour there drifted up from the darkness in the ravine
below such a sound as went deep to Mac's heart. Rich in tone, perfect
in key, unmarred by a single jarrin