rubbly wall of the trench.

'Get our second wind and tackle the next trench,' said Ken briefly.

His prophecy was correct. A couple of minutes later the order was passed
down to advance again.

In grim silence the men sprang out of their shelter and dashed forward.
There were no more star shells, but from up above began the ugly knocking
of a quick-firer. It sounded like a giant running a stick along an endless
row of palings, and the bullets squirted like water from a hose through
the thinning ranks of the Colonials.

It was worse than the first charge, for not only was the slope steeper,
but the face of the hill was covered with low, tough scrub, the tangled
roots of which caught the men's feet as they ran, and brought many down.
The result was that the line was no longer level. Some got far ahead of
the others.

Among the leaders were Ken and Dave, who struggled along, side by side,
still untouched amid the pelting storm of lead.

But although the ranks were sadly thinned, the attackers were not to be
denied. In a living torrent, they poured into the second trench.

There followed a grim five minutes. The Turks who were in considerable
force, made a strong effort to hold their ground, shortening their
bayonets and stabbing upwards at the attackers. It was useless. The
Australians and New Zealanders, savage at the loss of so many of their
comrades, fought like furies. Ken had a glimpse of a giant next him,