'Who'll be the fourth?' Ken asked of Dave.

'Take Dick Norton. He's a Queensland ex-trooper. He's been in with the
black trackers, and moves like a dingo.'

'The very man,' said Ken. 'Where is he?'

Norton, as it happened, was only a few yards away. He came up eagerly, a
slim, dark man with keen gray eyes and a nose like a hawk's beak.

A moment later, and Roy Horan's giant form came slipping rapidly up to the
little group, and Ken at once explained what was wanted.

'Carrington, you're an angel in khaki,' said Horan rejoicingly. 'I'm your
debtor for life.'

'Which same will not be a long one if ye don't kape that big body o'yours
under cover,' said O'Brien dryly, as a bullet, striking the parapet,
spattered earth all over them.

'Have ye revolvers?' he asked of Ken.

None of them had, but these were at once provided, together with plenty of
ammunition.

'Ye'd best lave your rifles,' said O'Brien. ''Tis a creeping, crawling job
before ye, and the lighter ye go, the better. At close quarters the
pistols will do the job better than anything else ye can carry. Now get
along wid ye. The sky's lightening over Asia yonder, and 'tis small chance