In his powerful hands it was a fearful weapon. The Turks went down like ninepins. Ken, who grasped his rifle by the barrel was in no way behind his chum. The Turks had not been prepared for such a resistance. Inside ten seconds five of them were down, and the three others had had all they wanted. They ran for their lives.
Kemp had taken no part in the battle. He was standing a little aloof on the upper ground. Roy, having disposed of his assailant, whirled round and made for the man.
Kemp whipped out a repeating pistol and levelled it at his head.
'Drop that or I shoot,' he said viciously.
'No, you don't,' cried Ken.
Ken had seen the pistol in Kemp's hand, and had just had time to get his own rifle to his shoulder, the muzzle levelled full at Kemp's head.
'Drop that pistol, or I'll blow your head off,' he said curtly.
Kemp's lips parted in a snarl, showing his white teeth. For a moment it looked as though he would shoot Roy and take his chances.
But his pluck was not quite equal to it, and the grim, determined look on Ken's face daunted him. With a muttered oath, he dropped the pistol.
'And a very pretty toy, too!' said Roy, springing forward and picking it up. 'A nice new automatic, Roy. We'll keep that as spoils of war.'