'Say—why that it's the greatest scheme ever hatched, and I'm with you every time,' Roy answered, his face glowing with excitement. 'And, by Jingo,' he added, 'if we'd picked the spot for bringing it off, we couldn't have done better.'
This was true enough. The spot where they were perched was fully sixty feet above the road, and the slope below was next door to perpendicular. For another thing, the supply of boulders was unlimited.
The one to which Ken had pointed weighed perhaps a quarter of a ton and was shaped rather like a gigantic egg. He put his weight against it, and found that it rocked, but even so, he could not be quite certain that their combined efforts could start it over the edge.
'Wait!' whispered Roy, and turning slipped away into the thick of the trees. He was back in a minute, carrying a heavy piece of dead timber.
'This ought to do the trick,' he said softly. Ken nodded.
Meantime the Turks below, all unsuspicious of what was brewing, came slowly and steadily along the road. Slowly, because not only is a 77-millimetre gun with its caisson a heavy weight, but also because the road was merely an apology for one. It was nothing but a deeply rutted track thick with sand and loose stones.
The men were in charge of a non-commissioned officer, a Turk like themselves, and consequently were taking it very easy, strolling along, smoking and chatting.
Roy drove his stake deep under the big rock, and gave a slight heave.
'She'll shift all right,' he whispered in a tone of quiet satisfaction.
'All right. Wait till I give the word,' said Ken, with his eyes fixed upon the long gray gun which came jogging slowly onwards, its grim muzzle swaying and lurching as the wheels took the ruts in the road.