'And what's the Turk say?' Roy asked eagerly.
'He says no one has ever been to the bottom, and couldn't get there if they wanted to. He calls it the ditch of Shaitan—in other words, the Devil's Dyke. By Jove, he's started Kemp cursing again. Wonderful flow of language the chap's got.'
Presently the voices above died away.
'So far as I can make out, they're going to have a try farther up the hill,' said Ken. 'It's lucky they didn't think of looking for our tracks. If they'd used their eyes they must have seen the place where we got over. I know I dug my toes in a good two inches when I was hanging on to you.'
Roy grinned.
'Thank goodness, tracking is about the last thing that would occur to a German. All the same, Kemp is quite cute enough to leave a guard posted here to watch for us.'
Ken looked rather startled.
'I hadn't thought of that, but it's very likely. Then it looks as if we should have to stay here all night.'
'I'd made up my mind to that already,' Roy answered. 'But it might be worse. We've got shelter and we're absolutely safe. Also we have our emergency rations, so we shan't starve. We ought to get a decent sleep for once in a way.'
'What—sleep on the edge of this precipice!'