"P.S.—There will be no firing to-day—go to bed."
And there was no firing. This Turkish officer, like every other Turkish soldier, was a gentleman.
It is remarkable how circumstances produce the inventor. At Hell-Fire Post the men found that the ordinary square periscope was almost useless. Every time one went up, bang went a Turk's rifle, and the periscope was blown to smithereens. Indeed, The Kangaroos lost nearly all their periscopes in the first few days. Now this was awkward. Periscopes are life-savers, for the periscope prevents a man pushing his head above the parapet to see if Johnny Turk is coming over to say "Good morning." Something had to be done, so the famous quartette began to cudgel their brains.
"I've got it," said Claud, picking up a walking-stick.
"Got what," inquired Bill.
"An idea—you watch." Taking a penknife out of his pocket, he deftly and quickly cut away the inner portion of the stick. This kept him busy for a couple of hours. When finished, he took a little pocket mirror out of his haversack.
"Too big," said Bill.
"No, it isn't," answered Claud, slipping a diamond ring off his finger. He scratched the mirror, then cut two pieces out of it. These he fixed into the walking-stick. "There you are now—a brand new periscope." And it proved just the thing. The field of vision was quite good. Being small it did not attract attention. The result of this discovery was that every officer's stick was immediately commandeered, and with the aid of Claud's ring and other people's mirrors, a good supply of periscopes were made.
"You think you're smart fellers, I suppose," said Bill, his envy roused by this success. "But I'll show you fellers something in a day or two."
"What is it?"