'And engaged in the charming occupation of signalling out of the bathroom port to an enemy submarine.'

It was evidently no news to Kemp that Kenneth Carrington was his adversary of the bathroom. Dark as it had been, he must somehow have recognised him.

He glared back defiantly.

'I was serving my country,' he answered with a lofty air.

'And what do you think would have happened to a Britisher who had been caught on a German ship, engaged in an act of such abominable treachery?'

returned Ken hotly.

Kemp merely shrugged his shoulders.

'Well, it's not for me to deal with you,' said Ken. 'We'll take him back, Roy, and he'll stand a proper court-martial. Still, as he calls himself an officer, I suppose I must take his parole.'

'Do you give it?' he demanded of Kemp.

Kemp's sallow face had gone white, but whether from fear or rage was doubtful. 'Yes,' he said in a low voice, 'I give my parole.'

They turned, and with Kemp between them, set out at a sharp pace in the direction from which they had come.

From the distance rifles still snapped, and a couple of miles away to the south-west field-guns were booming. But all around was strangely quiet.

Ken began to feel a trifle uneasy. He realised that they had got a long way ahead of their comrades, and that the latter had already been recalled.

'Quite nice and peaceful up here, eh, Ken?' said Roy with his cheerful grin.

Before Ken could reply there came a shot from somewhere quite close at hand, and with a sharp cry Ken dropped his rifle.

'Winged, old chap?' said Roy, turning quickly.

As he did so Kemp made a dash, and hurled himself up the slope to the left.

'Never mind me!' cried Ken. 'Catch Kemp. Shoot him. Stop him anyhow.'

Roy flung up his rifle and took a snap shot.

He missed, and before he could pull the trigger a second time, the ex-steward had dived like a weasel into a clump of scrub and was gone.

Roy dashed up the bank in hot pursuit. The moment he showed himself a regular volley of rifle shots rang out, and spinning round he sprang back into the hollow.

'There's about twenty Turks coming hard up the next gully,' he panted.

'We've got to bunk like blazes if we want to save our skins.'

CHAPTER VIII

THE HUNTERS HUNTED

Ken was standing, looking half dazed. His rifle was on the ground, and he was holding his left arm with his right hand.

'Are you hurt, Ken?' asked Roy, and there was real concern in his voice.

The two had known one another less than a week, yet each had come to respect and like the other.

'No. I'm not hit. The bullet struck the barrel of my rifle. It numbed my arm for the moment. I'm quite all right, but my rifle's done for, so far as firing goes. Rotten luck, losing Kemp.'

'Never mind Kemp,' said Roy, serious for once. 'These Turkish Johnnies are between us and home. And they're after us. It'll take us all our time to get clear. Which way are we to go?'

As he spoke a shout came from the next gully. It was Kemp's voice, and he was evidently calling his men up to pursue the two Britishers.

Ken glanced round quickly. He saw at once that it was out of the question to make straight back for their own lines. They would be cut off for a dead certainty. The two other alternatives were to make off to the right or to go straight back up the gully.

But going to the right meant that they would have to climb the right-hand wall of the gully, which was much steeper and higher than that to the left. The result would be that they would be exposed against the sky line to the enemy's fire.

All this flashed through his mind in a couple of seconds, and he instantly took his decision.

'We must go back up the gully, Roy,' he said sharply. 'It's absolutely our only chance.'

'Any way, so long as we don't drop into the clutches of that swine Kemp,'

said Roy. 'I fancy I see him giving us any parole.'

He whipped round as he spoke, and the two set to running steadily up the gully. As they pa.s.sed the scene of their late encounter where the bodies of the dead Turks lay by the broken machine gun, Ken stooped quickly and picked up one of their rifles, and helped himself also to a bandolier of cartridges.

This caused only a few seconds delay, yet before they were under way again, there came a crackle of shots from below, and bullets whizzed uncomfortably close about their ears.

Luckily for them, a few yards farther up was a bend in the course of the ravine, and once round that they were safe for the moment.

Safe for the moment--yes--but the prospect before them was not exactly inviting, and Ken's lips tightened as he and Roy strained onwards up the hill-side, which grew steeper with every yard.

They were going straight away from their own people, right into the heart of the enemy country, and rack his brains as he might, Ken could see no plan for getting back. There was nothing for it but to try to shake off their pursuers and trust to chance for the rest.

Neither of them was very fresh, for they had been fighting and running for the better part of two hours. Even so, they managed to keep ahead of the Turks, and though every now and then a few shots came rattling up from below they had got far enough ahead to be out of easy range.

They were now at a considerable height, but still a long way from the top of the hill. The scrub was thinning out and the ground becoming more and more stony. The worst of it was that the ravine up which they were travelling was getting steadily more shallow. A very little farther, and it ended altogether. Beyond, was nothing but bare hill-side, where they would--barring the scattered rocks--be in full view of the enemy.

Ken dropped to a walk.

'This won't do, Roy. Once we're out in the open, we shall be the very finest kind of targets.'

Roy shrugged his great shoulders.

'There's nothing else for it. We can't make a ravine. What price taking up a position here behind these rocks and trying to fight 'em off? We've got plenty of cartridges.'

Ken shook his head.

'No earthly use. They could get round above us. We shouldn't have a dog's chance.'

'Then we'd best shift on topside,' replied Roy coolly. 'They can't get above us there unless they raise a balloon. Come on, old man, we can dodge in and out among these rocks.'