“And now,” said the Colonel, “if you are through with your breakfast I
will send first of all for the private who went to the upper camp with
Arturus the Greek, and then, in turn, you can meet the guide.”
He was as good as his word. In a very few minutes a soldier came up and
saluted, a fellow who had discarded the leggings with which he had come
from the other side of the world, and turned up his trouser-legs so as
to keep cool, for the weather was already feeling rather uncomfortably
warm to one accustomed to a cooler climate.
Later on these men from the other side of the world stripped half their
garments off, and fought in that “free-and-easy” fashion, as they
termed it. Some of them must have had the blood of Scottish Highlanders
in their veins.
“Lancing, these two young chaps are American boys who are looking for
an aviator named Frank Turner,” the officer explained to him as he
stood there at attention, as rigid as a stick. “They have some reason
to believe he is ashore here. You told me when you made your report
that you had spoken with an air pilot whose aeroplane was at the camp
of the New Zealanders. Now show him the picture, Amos.”
Amos only too gladly complied. He fairly held his breath while the
stiffened figure of the private put out a hand and took the photograph.
He was looking intently at it now.
“That picture was taken, they tell me, several years back, Lancing,”
the Colonel went on to explain, “so naturally it might not be exactly
like the original as he is today. Now, since you have examined it, can
you say whether the man you met and talked with resembled this picture
to any degree?”
“He does, sir, and he does not,” answered the man.
“Still you can see no reason why they should not be the same, can you?
Is the color of the hair similar, and the general features much alike?”
continued the obliging officer.
“On the whole, sir, I’m tempted to say I have talked with the original
of this picture,” the soldier finally admitted. “Yes, I can see now the
odd little smile around the corners of the mouth that I noticed in the
air pilot.”
Amos gave a gurgle of intense satisfaction. It seemed to him that,
as Jack had declared, their third attempt was fated to meet with the
success that had been denied to them on two previous occasions.
“That will do, Lancing. When you go back send the Greek Arturus to me.
Tell him it is a matter of great importance.”
He turned to the boys after the soldier had again saluted, wheeled
stiffly in his tracks, and walked away in a machine-like fashion.
“It begins to look promising, I am glad to note, Amos, and I sincerely
hope you will be able to find your brother before another daybreak.
Though, like others you have told me of, I am sorry to know you
mean to coax him to leave us, in order to go home. I only trust that
after he has seen his father he will come back again and continue his
wonderful work for our cause.”
The Greek must have been close at hand for he now made his appearance.
Jack was favorably impressed with his bold, resolute bearing. He
likened him to some of those old-time worthies of whose brave exploits
history teems; and whose names are held in reverence wherever Greeks
continue to gather, for they live a good deal in the past.
Arturus listened to what the Colonel had to say. Meanwhile he was
casting covert glances toward the two boys. When he first learned
that he was expected to pilot the pair up to the other camp, through
numberless perils, he had frowned because he deemed it a fool’s errand.
The Colonel soon disillusioned his mind on this point.
When Arturus learned that Jack and Amos had actually captured, alone
and single-handed, the terrible gun-runner and his crew, as well as
turned the cargo and the boat over to the Allies, his manner changed
at once. He evidently knew enough of Captain Zenos to understand that
anyone who could trap him so cleverly was not to be treated with scorn
or derision, even though mere boys in point of years.
It was speedily arranged that Arturus would pilot the Colonel’s guests
to their intended destination when night again fell upon Gallipoli.
Nothing was said as to payment, but Jack felt sure this part of the
matter could be easily settled. With Arturus the wish of the Colonel
was as good as law; and he would have promised to do his part even
without thought of any reward.
The Greek made an engagement to meet them at sundown. He would come to
the Colonel’s tent at that hour ready to explain his plan of campaign.
So he passed away, and Jack, looking after him, noted that the man was
a born woodsman, for he planted his feet on the ground as softly as
a cat, and his eyes seemed to continually rove from side to side as
though nothing could escape them.
“You will have to excuse me from now on, boys, and shift for
yourselves,” they were told by the commander of the Territorial force
ashore on the peninsula. “Remember that you have promised not to take
any unnecessary risks while observing the action today.”
They renewed their assurances, having no desire to expose themselves
to the marksmanship of some German sharpshooter who might be posted up
on the hillside, eager to pick off such of the invaders as he could
discover.
It was not long before there were positive signs of “something doing,”
as Amos called it. The khaki-clad men with their guns began to gather
in squads. There was evidently no attempt going to be made to “rush”
the trenches of the Turks in the conventional way, for the presence of
those quick-firers above cooled all such ardor.
“It’s going to be something like the old-time Indian fighting over in
our own country, you can see, Jack,” asserted Amos, as he and his chum
stood and watched some of these detachments start forward.
“Well,” Jack remarked, “these Territorials, whether from South Africa,
Canada or the other side of the world, all know about those sort of
tactics. Many of them are hunters, or have been cowboys. Others have
had experience with crafty savages, and copied some of the ways of the
heathen.”
“Yes, it’s a good maxim to follow--‘when you’re in Rome do as the
Romans do,’” Amos said reflectively. “They’re going to fight fire with
fire. See how they drop down in that brush, and start to crawling along
like snakes. I’m only afraid we won’t be able to see much of this scrap
after all.”
“Wait a while,” his chum advised. “I reckon that when enough of them
have managed to creep up close to the trenches of the Turks there will
be some sort of a signal given, at which every Territorial will leap to
his feet, and be over the line like so many wolves.”
The anticipation of such a thrilling picture caused Amos to quiver with
eagerness. His only regret was that he himself could not be one of the
select company on whom this gallant advance was to fall; for with his
reckless nature Amos would have liked nothing better.
“I wonder if the Turks look for anything like this today?” he remarked
a short time later, as they found seats where they could rest
comfortably.
“Oh! so far as that goes, Amos, they must be on the watch day and
night, when they’re facing these Territorials. They can never tell when
something is going to happen. But you remember the Colonel told us they
were expecting that the enemy might be somewhat off his guard today,
because this is one of their holy days, when the true Mohammedan fasts,
and devotes a lot of his attention to his prayer rug, bowing toward
Mecca.”
“Now that’s what I call a clever trick--planning to take the Turk by
surprise when his mind’s turned on other things. We’ll soon see whether
it works or not, Jack.”
“Not for some hours, I’m afraid,” the other told him. “They have a long
distance to cover, and very nearly every foot of the same they must
snake their way along. Then there are several gullies lying between
that must be crossed. Likely there’ll be absolutely nothing doing for
some time.”
“We might look up that Arturus, and pump him some, in order to learn
what we can of what’s ahead of us,” Amos suggested. “The country is
terribly rough all around here, and we’re apt to have a sweet time of
it making our way to the other camp, especially in the pitch dark, and
with hawk-eyed Turks roaming around looking for a chance to cut down
the number of their foes.”
Jack thought the idea worth carrying out, and accordingly both kept
watch for the Greek. It was an hour before he came along, but seeing
Amos beckoning, he hastened to join them.
“We said nothing about a reward for your services, Arturus,” Jack told
him, “for the Colonel gave us no chance to mention it. Would you be
satisfied with twenty American dollars? We are not as well supplied
with ready cash as we would like, you understand, Arturus, or we would
double that amount.”
The young Greek smiled until he showed his even white teeth under his
black mustache. He also shook his head vigorously in the negative.
“I am not thinking of the money, I assure you,” he told them. “Listen.
Once upon a time I knew this same Captain Zenos. In fact, I was one of
his crew, and went with him on three voyages. Then we had words, and
he struck me. See, there is a mark, just under my hair, which I shall
carry always with me. I dared not answer him as the rage in my heart
would have tempted me to do; but I was resolved never again to sail
with him. Besides, my heart was not in the work. I detested the cruel
Turks by whom I had lost a father and elder brother in the last war. So
you can now understand why I left Captain Zenos.”
“And it’s a good thing you did, Arturus,” said Amos, warmly. “You
are on the right side now, depend on that, and fighting for all that
is worth while in this world--the coming of a peace that will last
forever, it is hoped.”
“And after I have heard what it was you two boys have done to my former
captain,” continued the Greek, smiling again, “I was determined to
serve you to the best of my ability. I owe you that, and much more,
because in humbling that man you have at the same time avenged my
wrongs. So please do not speak to me of money when I am only too glad
to help you valiant boys.”
They asked Arturus to sit down and chat, for there were many things
they wished to know. These not only concerned the methods by which the
Territorials expected to surprise the Turks on one of their fast and
holy days, but also covered the subject of their intended journey on
the coming night.
The Greek told them what he could of the ground they would be compelled
to pass over. Part of the way they might expect to utilize the sandy
beach, but after getting a certain distance from the camp there was too
much danger attached to that method of progression. Then it would be
necessary for them to worm their way along, something after the manner
the Territorials did when creeping up toward the lines held by the
enemy.
The time dragged slowly, and it became noon.
Amos and Jack had been by themselves for several hours now, Arturus
going about his own business. An oppressive silence seemed to hang over
the scene, where on the preceding day a constant booming of great guns
had made the air quiver with the concussion.
“It looks like there was going to be nothing doing from the fleet
today, because we’ve hardly had a distant glimpse of a war vessel all
morning,” Amos remarked, as he watched some of the soldiers who had
been left behind, for the most part suffering from slight wounds, start
to prepare the midday meal.
“Oh! that’s only to be expected,” Jack told him. “The wear and tear on
the big guns must be something fierce. And then, you know, they have
to take on more ammunition so as to be always ready for business. No,
whatever goes on today will be ashore here; and up to now we’re in the
dark just whether or not the boys can crawl up close enough to make an
attack.”