“That’s just the whole thing in a nut-shell,” agreed Jack. “You know the fleet had little trouble in reducing the forts and batteries on the tip of Gallipoli to ruins in the beginning, because they could get a clean sweep and crossfire on Seddul Bahr and Orkhanieh. There in the ruins of those places the handful of British soldiers are standing at bay, ready to mow down the enemy if he starts anything.”
“But why are the French over across on the Asiatic shore, Jack?”
“I suppose only to protect the British, for they have batteries too. But you understand, Amos, what I was trying to find out concerned the headquarters of the aviation corps.”
“Someone told me he thought it was on one of the Greek islands lying about twenty miles away as the crow flies,” Amos said.
“That may be all very true, but on the other hand I’ve heard there have been men landed in another quarter of the peninsula, part way up, and my informant assured me he believed some of the fliers made their start from one of the two camps.”
“That would be important news, if only we knew it to be true, Jack.”
“It would mean that we must manage to get ashore some way or other, and find out for ourselves, Amos. We’ve never made it a point to depend on others when we had a thing to be done, like the old farmer did, you remember.”
“Well, perhaps I’ve heard the story, Jack, but it wouldn’t do any harm to tell it again,” suggested Amos.
“Oh! it is meant to show how foolish it is to think others will do things as well as you can yourself,” Jack commenced. “You see, it is something of a fairy story, too, and concerns a mother bird that had her little brood nearly ready for flying, with the nest concealed among the ripening grain of a farmer.”
“A dangerous place to build a nest, that’s sure,” observed Amos.