Eagerly the men scrambled out of their trench and plunged into the scrub. In a long yet level line they went charging through it.
The snipers had not expected another advance. That was clear enough. By twos and threes and dozens, they sprang up out of their hiding-places, and bolted like rabbits. With exulting shouts the Colonials charged after them, ran them down and bayoneted them.
The slaughter was fearful. As the khaki-clad line swept onwards they left the ground behind them thick with dead bodies. They themselves lost, of course, but only slightly. Their attack was such a complete surprise, and they moved so quickly, that for a time they had matters all their own way. The Turks had no relish for bayonet fighting, and the few who did turn to bay soon paid the penalty.
For a quarter of a mile or more the Colonials continued their career, clearing the whole of the scrub of the plague of snipers. Then, just in the moment of victory, came such a blast of firing that the whole line reeled and swayed, and men fell by the dozen.
'Down with you!' shouted Ken to Dave, who was on his left. 'Down with you!'
As he spoke, he himself dropped behind a boulder which thrust its weather-stained head out of the thin grass. He glanced round and saw that his companions had followed his example.
A bullet struck the stone just above his head and spattered off in a shower of shrieking fragments. The whole air was thick with lead. It was clear that they had run into a very strong enemy force, no doubt the reinforcements which had been brought up from the east.
'Where are they?' sang out Dave, who was lying in a little hollow with Roy Horan, a few yards to their left.
'There's a ravine ahead. That's where they are. Look out! Here they come!'
The hill-side opposite seemed suddenly to vomit men. They came sweeping out in masses, hundreds strong.