“Let us hope these people are the gainers by our finish!” he called over his shoulder, riding on after his command.  “They are not at all bad people—­only un-drilled, and a little too used to the ways of the Turk!  Good-by, sahib!”

Within the castle gate I found a woman, whom they all addressed as Marie, very busy sorting out the bundles they had thrown against the wall.  She was putting all the food together into a common fund, and as I entered she shouted to her own nominees among the other women to get their cooking pots and begin business.

Still pondering Rustum Khan’s advice, in the dark whether or not be meant it seriously, I chose Marie Chandrian to take command.  She made no bones about it, but accepted with a great shrill laugh that the rest of them seemed to recognize—­and to respect for old acquaintance’ sake.  She turned out to have her husband with her—­an enormous, hairy man with a bull’s voice who ought to have been in one or other of the firing-lines but had probably held back in obedience to his better half.  She made him her orderly at once, and it was not long before every soul in the castle had his or her place to hold.

Then I mounted once more and rode at top speed down the new road that Monty was defending, taking another horse this time, not so good, but much less afraid of the din of battle.

I found Monty scarcely fifty paces from the track, on the outside edge of the fringe of trees that the Turks had been unable to cut down.  There were numbers of wounded laid out on the track itself, with none to carry them away; and the Turks were keeping up a hot fire from behind the shelter of the felled trees and standing stumps.  The outside range was two hundred yards, and there were several platoons of the enemy who had crept up to within thirty or forty yards and could not be dislodged.

I pulled Monty backward, for he could not hear me, and he and I stood behind two trees while I told him what I had done, shouting into his ear.

“I’ve got to go and find Gloria!” I said finally, and he frowned, and nodded.

“Go first and take a look at the ramp through the trees.  Tell me what’s happening.”

So I limped down to the end of the track and made my way cautiously through the lower fringe of trees that had been cut three-parts through in readiness for felling in a hurry.  Just as I got there the Turks began a new massed advance up the ramp, as if in direct proof of Monty’s mental alertness.

The men posted on the opposite flank to where I was opened a terrific fire that would have made poor Kagig bite his lips in fear for the waning ammunition.  Then Fred came into action with his hundred, throwing them in line into the open along the top, where they lay down to squander cartridges—­squandering to some purpose, however, for the Turkish lines checked and reeled.

But Mahmoud Bey had evidently given orders that this advance should be pressed home, and the Turks came on, company after company, in succeeding waves of men.  There were some in front with picks and shovels, making rough steps in the slippery clay; and I groaned, hating to go and tell Monty that it was only a matter of minutes before the frontal attack must succeed and the pass be in enemy hands.