'This is getting a bit thick,' said Roy Horan, as a fresh crackle of rifle
fire burst from a wooded height about a quarter of a mile inland. A maxim
carefully emplaced behind sandbags in the trench replied with a storm of
bullets, but it was a poor job, firing at an enemy who were quite
invisible, and a feeling of slight depression had begun to settle on the
occupants of the trench.

'The colonel's having a pow-wow with the other officers,' said Dave.
'Something's going to happen before long.'

Something did happen. Presently the whistles trilled, and a sigh of relief
went up.

'Cold steel, bhoys,' said Sergeant O'Brien. 'Don't any of ye wait to
shoot. And open order, mind ye!'

Eagerly the men scrambled out of their trench and plunged into the scrub.
In a long yet level line they went charging through it.

The snipers had not expected another advance. That was clear enough. By
twos and threes and dozens, they sprang up out of their hiding-places, and
bolted like rabbits. With exulting shouts the Colonials charged after
them, ran them down and bayoneted them.

The slaughter was fearful. As the khaki-clad line swept onwards they left
the ground behind them thick with dead bodies. They themselves lost, of
course, but only slightly. Their attack was such a complete surprise, and
they moved so quickly, that for a time they had matters all their own way.
The Turks had no relish for bayonet fighting, and the few who did turn to