He overtook Malcolm, swinging along with prodigious strides despite the tenacious slime. "There are the swine who knocked my pal over," he shouted, pointing to an insignificant heap of stones about eighty yards to his right front.
"There's a blessed tic-tac in there. I'll blow 'em to blazes."
The fragments of concrete marked the former position of a pill-box which had been built over a deep dug-out. The German machine-gunners had lain low when the first wave of New Zealanders had swept overhead; then, hauling up their deadly weapon, they had trained it on the khaki lads still struggling through the Hannebeke stream.
Grasping a bomb, M'Turk edged cautiously towards the flank of the machine-gun emplacement; but before he had gone ten yards he stopped and stood upright with his left hand raised to the rim of his shrapnel-helmet. For quite five seconds he remained thus, then his knees gave way under him, slowly and reluctantly, it seemed, he fell in a huddled heap face downwards in the mud.
"M'Turk's down, by Heaven!" ejaculated Malcolm.
He threw himself on his hands and knees and crawled towards the luckless bomber, Selwyn following. With an effort they dragged the man on his back. He was beyond mortal aid. A rifle bullet had struck him fairly on the left temple, causing instantaneous death.
Slinging his rifle, Malcolm possessed himself of three of M'Turk's bombs. He would attempt to carry out the task the bomber had essayed when a chance bullet struck him down: to wipe out the viper's nest and to silence the deadly machine-gun that was loosing a fresh bolt of ammunition upon the floundering men making their way across the swollen stream.
He advanced rapidly. Time was the first consideration, caution second. Every instant instant meant death to his comrades in the mud.
Suddenly one of the machine-gunners caught sight of the approaching danger. With a yell he sprang to his feet and raised his hands. The machine-gun began to spit fire once more, and that decided it. The Hun who offered to surrender was a negligible quantity.
With splendid precision the Mills's bomb flew straight at the group of grey-coated men. One missile was enough. Malcolm turned and doubled after his comrades, and, again under shelter of the slowly-creeping barrage, was once more in comparative safety.