older.'

Bread, bully beef, and a drink of water out of their bottles. That was the
simple bill of fare. But Ken's exertions during the night had put a sharp
edge on his appetite, and he enjoyed the plain meal.

The fog was fast disappearing under the rays of the newly risen sun, and
the firing grew heavier every minute. The hills all round were alive with
snipers, but their fire was directed not so much on the trench held by the
Australians as on the boats which were landing reinforcements on the beach
below.

It was in the boats and on the beach that the casualties were heaviest.
The troops that were landed had to run the gauntlet for fully fifty yards
before reaching the cover of the scrub on the cliff, and matters were
worse still for the bluejackets pulling the empty boats back to the ships.
They were potted at without a chance of returning the enemy fire.

But they stuck it out finely, and already all the wounded had been taken
off, while reinforcements had reached the upper trench, sufficient in
number to make up for the first losses.

'What's the colonel waiting for?' asked Dave. 'Why don't we go on up and
smoke out those blighted snipers?'

'It's ammunition, I fancy. And there's a couple of maxims coming up. We
shall need those if we have to dig ourselves in under fire.'

'More digging--oh, Christmas!' growled Dave. 'I didn't come here to dig. I
could do that in my old dad's garden at home.'