Ken glanced back down the hill.  Already the first of their pursuers were in sight round the curve of the ravine, barely three hundred yards away.  They were jogging along quite steadily.  It was clear that they felt absolutely sure of their men—­so sure that there was no need to hurry.  Kemp, conspicuous in his ugly German khaki, was shepherding them upwards.

Ken bit his lip.  Inwardly he vowed that he would never be taken alive by the ex-steward.  He had a pretty shrewd idea of what his fate and Roy’s would be if they fell into Kemp’s clutches.

‘Come on, then,’ he said desperately, and springing up over the shallow bank of the ravine made a rush for the spot where the rocks seemed to be thickest.

A shout from below told them that their manoeuvre was observed.

‘They’re spreading out,’ said Roy, looking back over his shoulder.

‘They’re not shooting, anyhow,’ answered Ken, as, bent double, he ran hard alongside his companion.

‘I suppose they think they’ve got us anyhow,’ said Roy.  ’Ken, I’d give a lot to disappoint the dear Kemp.’

Up and up they went, bearing a little to the right because it was on that side that the stones lay thickest.  They were still both going strong, and were, if anything, increasing the distance between themselves and their pursuers.  A little spark of hope began to dawn in Ken’s breast.  It seemed just possible that they might still outrun the slower-going Turks, and crossing the ridge, find shelter in the valley below.  There was one point in their favour.  The sun was dropping low in the west.  It would be dark in little more than an hour.

Roy seemed to guess his thoughts.

’We’ll do ’em down yet, Ken,’ he said.

Almost as he spoke he pulled up short, and flung out his arm just in time to stop Ken from plunging right over the sheer edge of a tremendous gorge that gashed the face of the mountain like a slice from a giant’s knife.

For an instant both stood breathing hard, staring down into the darksome depths below.  Then Ken turned to Roy.

‘That’s why they weren’t hurrying,’ he said bitterly.

For once Roy seemed cooler than Ken.  Throwing himself flat on his face, he wriggled forward till nearly half his body was over the edge.

‘Hold my legs,’ he said, and Ken, horrified at the other’s rashness, obeyed.

A moment later he was on his feet again.  There was a queer glimmer in his eyes.

’There’s a chance yet.  I’ve spotted a ledge.  Don’t count on it.  I don’t know whether we can reach it.  But it’s worth trying.  Come on.’

He hurried back down the edge of the cliff for about thirty paces, then looked over again.

’Here it is.  It’s a goodish way down.  But I’ve tackled places as bad in the North Island mountains.  Will you risk it?’

‘I’d risk anything rather than Kemp,’ Ken answered curtly.

’Then I’ll go first.  Lie down on your face, and give me your hands.  Quickly.  Those beggars mustn’t see us.’