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 passed 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.'
Ken glanced back down the hill. Already the first of their pursuers were
in sight round the curve of the ravine, barely three hundred yards away.
They were jogging along quite steadily. It was clear that they felt
absolutely sure of their men--so sure that there was no need to hurry.
Kemp, conspicuous in his ugly German khaki, was shepherding them upwards.
Ken bit his lip. Inwardly he vowed that he would never be taken alive by
the ex-steward. He had a pretty shrewd idea of what his fate and Roy's
would be if they fell into Kemp's clutches.
'Come on, then,' he said desperately, and springing up over the shallow
bank of the ravine made a rush for the spot where the rocks seemed to be
thickest.
A shout from below told them that their manoeuvre was observed.
'They're spreading out,' said Roy, looking back over his shoulder.
'They're not shooting, anyhow,' answered Ken, as, bent double, he ran hard
alongside his companion.
'I suppose they think they've got us anyhow,' said Roy. 'Ken, I'd give a
lot to disappoint the dear Kemp.'
Up and up they went, bearing a little to the right because it was on that
side that the stones lay thickest. They were still both going strong, and
were, if anything, increasing the distance between themselves and their
pursuers. A little spark of hope began to dawn in Ken's breast. It seemed
just possible that they might still outrun the slower-going Turks, and
crossing the ridge, find shelter in the valley below. There was one point
in their favour. The sun was dropping low in the west. It would be dark in
little more than an hour.
Roy seemed to guess his thoughts.
'We'll do 'em down yet, Ken,' he said.
Almost as he spoke he pulled up short, and flung out his arm just in time
to stop Ken from plunging right over the sheer edge of a tremendous gorge
that gashed the face of the mountain like a slice from a giant's knife.
For an instant both stood breathing hard, staring down into the darksome
depths below. Then Ken turned to Roy.
'That's why they weren't hurrying,' he said bitterly.
For once Roy seemed cooler than Ken. Throwing himself flat on his face, he
wriggled forward till nearly half his body was over the edge.
'Hold my legs,' he said, and Ken, horrified at the other's rashness,
obeyed.
A moment later he was on his feet again. There was a queer glimmer in his
eyes.
'There's a chance yet. I've spotted a ledge. Don't count on it. I don't
know whether we can reach it. But it's worth trying. Come on.'
He hurried back down the edge of the cliff for about thirty paces, then
looked over again.
'Here it is. It's a goodish way down. But I've tackled places as bad in
the North Island mountains. Will you risk it?'
'I'd risk anything rather than Kemp,' Ken answered curtly.
'Then I'll go first. Lie down on your face, and give me your hands.
Quickly. Those beggars mustn't see us.'
Ken obeyed instantly. He knew nothing of mountaineering himself, but
realised that Roy did. Without a moment's hesitation Roy turned round with
his back to the ravine, and catching Ken's hands, let himself drop quietly
till his long body dangled at full length against the face of the cliff.
[Illustration: 'The strain on Ken's arms was awful.']
The strain on Ken's arms was awful. The depths below made his head swim.
But he set his teeth, dug his toes into the earth, and held on like grim
death.
'Let go,' said Roy briefly.
To Ken it seemed as though he were dropping his friend into the awful
abyss. But he obeyed without hesitation.
There was a second of ghastly suspense. Then Roy was standing on the
almost invisible ledge, balancing himself, spreadeagled against the face
of the rock.
His hands moved slowly, the fingers groping for a hold. He found it, and
clutching tightly with his left, raised his right hand.
'My bayonet,' he said quickly.
Ken slipped it out of its socket and gave it him.
Roy took it and carefully and deliberately drove it into a crevice in the
rock on a level with his head.
'Chuck the rifles over,' he said. 'You mustn't leave them.'
Ken obeyed. A hollow crash came up from the black depths.
'Now I'm ready for you,' said Roy. His voice was so cool and steady that
it gave Ken some confidence. 'Get as good a grip as you can and let go
when I tell you.'
For a moment it seemed to Ken that he could not do what was asked. In any
matter of fighting he was Roy's equal--indeed his superior, for he was
better able to keep his head in the thick of it.
But he had had no experience of heights, and the blood ran cold in his
veins at the idea of dropping over this terrific precipice. It seemed to
him the only possible result must be that he would knock Roy off his
narrow perch, and that they would go crashing together into the yawning
depths of the abyss.
'You're not scared, are you?'
The contempt in Roy's tones stung Ken to the quick. He hesitated no
longer. Turning quickly, he clutched the rocky ledge and recklessly swung
himself down.
'Good man! I knew you could do it. Steady now! I've got you. Let go!'
Once more Ken obeyed. He fully believed that he was going to his doom.
Instead, to his intense surprise, he found himself balancing on the ledge
beside Roy.
Roy gave a low laugh.
'Sorry I insulted you, old man. I just had to. I know the sort of funk
that takes you the first time you try this kind of game. And I give you my
word there are precious few chaps would have stuck it at all.'
'Now I'll tell you something to console you,' he continued. 'The ledge
widens to my right, and runs in under a big overhang. Once we're under
that, we're as safe as rats in a granary. No one can see us from up above
or from anywhere else, so far as that goes.'
Ken hardly heard. It seemed as if every energy he possessed was needed
just to cling where he was, flattened like a dead mole nailed on a
keeper's gibbet.
Roy went on talking in a low quiet voice, which gradually brought back
Ken's confidence, and though his heart was thumping, and he felt as though
it was impossible to draw a full breath, he presently managed to follow
his companion along the ledge.
As Roy had said, it gradually widened, and after going very carefully for
a matter of twenty feet it grew broad enough to walk on with some degree
of safety.
A minute later, and they were in a deep hollow--almost a cave and
absolutely hidden from all inquisitive eyes.
Roy laughed softly as he dropped to a sitting position.
'Gosh, I'd love to see Kemp's face this minute,' he remarked in a low
voice. 'He'll be just about fit to tie.'
Ken did not answer. He had dropped down and sat with his back against the
river side of the cavity, breathing hard. His face was very white, and big
drops of perspiration beaded his forehead.
Roy glanced at him with some anxiety. Then he fumbled in the pocket of his
tunic and brought out a small leather-covered flask.
'I've carried this ever since I left home,' he said. 'I reckoned it would
come in useful some time. Take a sip of it.'
It was fine old Australian brandy, and although Ken took no more than a
mouthful the effects were immediate. A tinge of colour came back to his
cheeks, and his heart steadied at once.
'Proper stuff, eh?' smiled Roy, as Ken handed back the flask.
Ken held up his hand sharply. 'Listen!' he whispered.
Above their heads they heard heavy footsteps. Then came Kemp's voice.
'What's he saying?' whispered Roy.
'He's telling 'em to hunt among the rocks,' answered Ken in an equally low
voice. 'He seems to be annoyed. He's using all the bad language he knows,
and chucking in German swears where he can't remember the Turkish ones.'
'Must be a bit of a facer for him,' chuckled Roy.
'There's one of the Turks answering him,' said Ken. 'Says we must have
jumped over to escape them.'
'Oh, that's Kemp again,' continued Ken. 'He's telling 'em to go down and
see.'
'And what's the Turk say?' Roy asked eagerly.
'He says no one has ever been to the bottom, and couldn't get there if
they wanted to. He calls it the ditch of Shaitan--in other words, the
Devil's Dyke. By Jove, he's started Kemp cursing again. Wonderful flow of
language the chap's got.'
Presently the voices above died away.
'So far as I can make out, they're going to have a try farther up the
hill,' said Ken. 'It's lucky they didn't think of looking for our tracks.
If they'd used their eyes they must have seen the place where we got over.
I know I dug my toes in a good two inches when I was hanging on to you.'
Roy grinned.
'Thank goodness, tracking is about the last thing that would occur to a
German. All the same, Kemp is quite cute enough to leave a guard posted
here to watch for us.'
Ken looked rather startled.
'I hadn't thought of that, but it's very likely. Then it looks as if we
should have to stay here all night.'
'I'd made up my mind to that already,' Roy answered. 'But it might be
worse. We've got shelter and we're absolutely safe. Also we have our
emergency rations, so we shan't starve. We ought to get a decent sleep for
once in a way.'
'What--sleep on the edge of this precipice!'
'Why not? I've slept in worse places before now.'
'Supposing one rolled over in one's sleep?' said Ken with a slight shiver
as he peered over into the awesome depths below.
Roy laughed softly.
'Don't worry. You shall sleep between me and the rock. It'll take you all
your time to roll over me.'
The sun was down, darkness was already shrouding the depths of space
beneath them. The Turks seemed to have left. At any rate, Ken and Roy
could hear no more of them. The evening silence was broken only by the
mysterious whisper of the evening breeze as it stole down the cañon, and
by a faint and distant popping of rifle shots.
Roy stretched his long legs and yawned.
'I'm for supper,' he observed, as he took his iron ration out of his
haversack. 'We'll share this to-night, Ken, and breakfast off yours in the
morning. Luckily I've still got some water in my bottle.'
The emergency or iron ration consists mainly of concentrated beef,
biscuit, and chocolate. There is not much of it, so far as bulk goes, but
it is very sustaining. Roy carefully divided his into two lots, and they
ate slowly, and finished their slim repast with a drink of water.
Then, after chatting a while, they stretched themselves out to sleep. Roy,
according to his promise, made Ken take the inner side, and in spite of
his nervousness, he slept like a log.
Ken roused at earliest dawn. A thin mist floated beneath them, hiding the
depths of the ravine. Musketry still crackled in the distance, but all
around was very still.
Ken shivered slightly, for the morning air bit chill. He sat up and shook
Roy, who was still sleeping peacefully.
'Daylight,' said Ken briefly. 'Time to get out of this.'
Roy sat up and stretched his great frame.
'What a life!' he said with a laugh. 'Yes, I suppose we'd best be
shifting.'
'Shall we breakfast now, or wait till we get up topside?' asked Ken.
Roy gave him a quick look.
'It might be as well to feed now,' he said quietly. 'You see, I haven't a
notion how we're going to get out of this.'
Ken stared. Such a point of view had never occurred to him. He had such
implicit faith in Roy's mountaineering capacity that he had taken it
absolutely for granted that Roy could find a way back to firm ground.