of Doe's grave to-night.

So, worrying anxiously, I gave the order "D Company--march!" and led
the way up Artillery Road, while the men, observing that the other
companies were proceeding in comparative safety along the Gully,
began to sing quietly: "I'll take the high road, and you'll take the
low road ... and we shall never meet again," and to titter and to
laugh.

"Silence!" I commanded.

Hearing only the padding of our feet as they marched in step, and
keeping our eyes on the ground that we might not miss the beaten
track and wander into the heather, we tramped along the trail which
I had taken on my wild ride to Doe's bedside. We passed Pink Farm
Cemetery, barely distinguishing the outline of its solitary tree. We
left the "White City" on our right. It was brilliantly lit, that the
Turk might think everything was as usual on Helles. We reached the
summit of Hunter Weston Hill, and looked down upon a still grey
plain, which was the sea.

On the slope of the hill, not fifty yards from where Doe was lying,
I had halted my men and was making them sit down, when a voice out
of the darkness asked:

"Who's that?"

My heart bounded with fright. A sense of the eerie was upon me, and
for a second I thought it was Doe's voice.

"D Company," I called hollowly, "10th East Cheshires."

"Ah, good!" repeated the voice, which was Monty's. And he stepped
out of the night, giving me another nasty turn, for it was like some
unexpected presence coming from the darkest corner of a room. He sat
down beside me, and began to talk.

"The moon is due up about midnight. They want to get us off before
moonrise, so that the Turk may not shell us by its light. His
aviators are expected to try night-flying."

"Oh!" said I. I was thinking of other things.

"But they've been shelling us pretty effectively in the dark.
Asiatic Annie is very busy troubling the beaches."

"Oh?" I said again.

And at that moment a flash illuminated the eastern sky like
lightning.

"There you are," said Monty. "She's fired."

No sound of a gun firing or a shell rushing had accompanied the
flash. Only alarm whistles began blowing from different points on
the hillside.

"They're blown by special sentries," explained Monty, "who are
posted to watch the hills of Asia for this flash, and warn the
troops to take cover."

"Take cover," I said to my men.

The shell was on its way, but, as it had a journey of seven miles to
make across the Dardanelles