Their fixed destination was El Arish, on the border of Palestine and Egypt, the key to the fighting zone in the land of Suez and the Nile, where General Maxwell, in command of the British forces, was matching wits with the Ottoman commanders, urged to best effort by the presence of Enver Pasha, the young “war lord” of Turkey.
While fully ten miles away from the border, Macauley declared that he could scent gunpowder, and as the distance rapidly lessened, numerous enough were the signs of military occupation to convince Billy that the soldier’s nose had not gone back on him.
A half hour later the war-planes were down, and Macauley and Canby had found their own again; if not, indeed, the “old Seventh,” just the same kind of fighting blood under the Union Jack.
While Billy and Henri got busy in overhauling the war-planes and reducing in the machines some of the effects of rough usage and continuous journeying, the two soldiers were equally active in getting into the campaign. Well set up again in khaki uniforms and with pith helmets on their heads, “Daring Dan” and Canby looked like ten-time winners. The boys also had ceased to be “Turks,” by the courtesy of the quartermaster.
“Guess we’ll have to shake you for a while, and sorry for it, my young friends. We have your gauge for a dandy pair, and the breed to which anyone may safely tie; so I am just wanting to say that I hope we will meet many times and often in the future, the nearer the better.”
“What’s the occasion?” questioned Billy.
“Marching orders for the morning,” continued Macauley; “not a flying assignment this time, or you boys would be on the front seats. Just plain footing it for the present.”
The speaker gave each of the boys a hearty grip and a look of strong liking, Canby following suit with equal fervor.
When the soldiers turned away to join the regiment to which they had been assigned, the lads climbed to an elevation on the sea front and looked out upon the rolling blue of the Mediterranean.
“Many the hard parting we’ve had, Buddy,” murmured Billy; “how I would love to go back over the trail and greet the good friends and true comrades again, one by one. Mayhap some of the warm hands are cold by now, some of the great hearts stilled. My prayer is that this be not so. And I’ve been asking myself if there is any pledge behind us that we have broken?”