"We come down the track at top speed, and the impetus will carry us clear across the ramp. Some of the horses'll go down, because the slope is slippery. But the remainder will front form squadron, and charge down hill in line. Then watch!"
"All right," Fred grumbled. "But how about you rear while all that's going on? The Turk must have worked his way around Beirut Dagh on former occasions—or how else could he ever have built and held that dismantled fort? What's to stop him from doing it again?"
"It's a fifteen-mile fight ahead of him," Monty answered, "with riflemen posted at every vantage-point all the way—"
"Who is in charge of the riflemen?"
Kagig leaned back until he looked in danger of falling, and tapped his breast significantly three times.
"I—I have picked the men who will command those riflemen and women!"
"Well," Fred grumbled, "what are your plans for us?"
"For the last time, Fred, I want you, old man, to help me to persuade these others to escape into the hills while there's still a chance, and I want you to go with them."
"I also!" exclaimed Kagig. "I also desire that!"
"Now you've got that off your chest, Didums, suppose you talk sense," suggested Fred. "What are your plans?"