Ken examined him quickly.
'He's got off cheaply,' he said. 'Nothing broken—nothing the matter, so far as I can see, except bruises and a cut on the head. Give him a drop of your brandy, Roy.'
As Roy unscrewed the stopper, the Turk's eyes opened, and he stared up at his rescuers in blank amazement.
'Englishmen!' he muttered.
Roy put the flask to his lips, but he shook his head.
'Water,' he said in Turkish.
'It's against his religion to drink wine or spirits,' Ken explained to Roy, and put his own water-bottle to the man's lips.
'I thank you,' said the Turk with grave courtesy. He sat up and looked round at the ruin on the road.
'We did not know that your guns were near enough to drop shell upon us,' he said. 'Nor had we any notion that your troops had advanced so far inland.
'Well, it is Allah's will,' he continued resignedly. 'And our fate for being driven into an unjust war. I am your prisoner.'