“Whew! again?” muttered Amos, thinking of that terrible climb they had been forced to take in order to pass around the concealed battery.
The sound of the fleeing Turks had now subsided. Either they had passed beyond hearing or else managed in some way to curb their panicky condition. At the very least it meant they would have these three enemies to contend against, and must therefore be constantly on their guard.
If anything, the ground grew rougher than before. Amos believed so since he tripped more frequently, though that may have come from his weariness. It had been an exhausting day for the boys, what with their work as Red Cross stretcher-bearers, and a lot of other duties performed by them. Any boy might well have confessed that he was almost worn out from fatigue; and it was the wild hope of meeting his missing brother Frank that kept Amos up, more than his will power.
They had not been moving along for more than ten minutes in this slow and cautious fashion when again Arturus, the Greek, came to a stand. Instinctively both of the boys immediately strained their hearing to ascertain what sounds may have reached the ears of the guide. And what they managed to catch gave them to understand that a large body of the enemy must be straddling the trail ahead, for some purpose or other.
CHAPTER XXIII.
WITH THE NEW ZEALAND CONTINGENT.
“Wait here until I return!”
The Greek guide whispered these words in Jack’s ear, thus recognizing the fact that he knew which of the two boys could be accounted the leader.
Without explaining what he meant to do he left them, and his form was speedily swallowed up in the gloom. Amos hardly knew what it meant, though, of course, knowing that Arturus had not basely deserted them thus.
“What’s up, Jack?” he asked, cautiously.