nipers, and got him out."

"That was very good of you. Did you see any more Medical Corps up there?
We've lost some others, and an officer and sergeant."

"No, I didn't spot any--did you, Bill?" The tall man turned to his pal
leaning on his rifle.

"No," answered the short sharp-shooter; "he's the only one. It was a
good afternoon's sport--very good. We saw 'e'd got no rifle, and was in
a tight clove-'itch, so we took the job on right there an' finished four
of 'em; but it took some creepin' and crawlin'."

"Well, we'll be quittin' this now," said the tall one. "There's only
one thing we'd ask of you, sir: don't let our people know anything about
this."

"But why?" asked the adjutant, astonished. "You've saved his life, and
it ought to be known."

"Ya-as, that may be, sir; but we're not supposed to be up here
sharp-shootin'--we jist done it fer a bit of sport. Rightly we don't
carry a rifle; we belong to the bridge-buildin' section. We've only
borrowed these rifles from the Cycle Corps, an' we shall be charged with
bein' out o' bounds without leave, an' all that sort o' thing if it gits
known down at our headquarters."

"Very well, I'll tell no one; all the same it was good work, and we
thank you for getting him back to us," the adjutant smiled.

The two Australians gave him a friendly nod, and said, "So long, you
chaps!" to us and lurched off down the defile.

"We'll chuck it fer to-day--done enough," said the tall man.

"Ya-as, we'd better git back. It was good sport--very good," said the
short one.

Certainly the Australians we met were a cheerful, happy-go-lucky,
devil-may-care crew. They were the most picturesque set of men on the
peninsula.

Rough travelling, little or no food, no water, sleepless nights
and thrilling escapes made them look queerly primitive and Robinson
Crusoeish.

I wrote in my pocket-book: "September 8, 1915.--The Australians have the
keen eye, quick ear and silent tongue which evolves in the bushman and
those who have faced starvation and the constant risk of sudden death,
who have lived a hard life on the hard ground, like the animals of the
wild, and come through.

"Fine fellows these, with good chests and arms, well-knit and gracefully
poised by habitually having to creep and crouch, and run and fight.
Sunburnt to a deep bronze, one and all.

"Their khaki shorts flap and ripple in the sea-wind like a troop of Boy
Scouts. Some wear green shirts, and they all wear stone-gr