straining, grunting, swearing, sweating, neither side able to raise arms with which to strike, till the Gurkhas, wriggling between the legs of their brothers, the Highlanders, ham-strung the foremost Turks, or ripped their bellies with the murderous knives. Stumbling and sliding, their weapons freed from the pressure by the fallen Turks, the British advanced a pace, swung their bayonets with the "hay-maker's" cut, uttering a sobbing "hu-uh!" as the steel struck home. The Highlanders cut and stabbed cannily in dour silence. Here and there a dull thud told when an Irish rifle crushed a Turkish skull. The Gurkhas yelped incessantly, as they plied their kukris, like eager hounds pulling down their prey.
Brought up hurriedly from the rear, a machine gun was mounted on a jutting ledge, and its streaming fire went above the advancing men into the Turks massed at the turn of the pass.
The Turks fought bravely. But the pressure of the British was irresistible. Their foe retreated slowly, sullenly, fighting doggedly, as is their habit. The turn of the pass was reached; and as the gorge opened into the broader valley, the leading files opened out, and sent a scattering volley into the rearmost companies. As more and more men came up, bringing the machine gun, the fire increased, and the retreating Turks moved faster and faster, back toward the heart of the
