Removing the puttees and cutting away the stocking beneath, Burton saw that his friend’s right leg was broken. He felt him all over, causing him to wince now and then as he touched a bruise. There was no other serious injury. "Your leg’s badly crocked, old man; but I’m jolly glad it’s no worse. When that shell winged us I made sure our number was up." "What about you?" "I’m just one compound ache--must be bruised from top to toe. Our luck’s out to-day. Just clench your teeth while I see what I can do in first aid. The machine’s smashed to smithereens. How I’m to get you back to the M.O. beats me." "Whereabouts are we?" "Somewhere in Macedonia! In a gully, with hills all round, not a living thing in sight. I hoped we’d be able to flutter back to our lines, but it wasn’t to be. Our troops must be miles away, and getting farther every minute, worse luck! What fate dogs us, that we must always be retreating? Ah! that made you squirm; sorry, old man, but you’ll be easier now." He had bound up the leg, and now brushed away the beads of sweat which the exertion, in his own sorry state, had brought out upon his brow. "Now, look here, Enderby," he said, "the best thing I can do is to trudge off after our men and get a machine to bring you in. And the sooner I start, the better. You ought to be safe enough here. You’re well hidden; the Bulgars’ advance won’t bring them past this spot, there’s no road. But if I lose any time they’ll be somewhere in the neighbourhood before a machine could arrive, and then it’ll be hopeless. I’ll rummage out some food from our wreck, and leave you that and my flask----" "You’d better take it; you’ve a long tramp before you, and may come across some advance patrols of the Bulgars for all you know. Besides----" He paused. Both men pricked up their ears simultaneously. Each looked an anxious inquiry at the other. From somewhere not far away came a rhythmic sound--a succession of strident, scraping sounds--which in a moment they recognised as the creaking of a cart. Neither man spoke. Burton stole down the gully, and round the shoulder of a hill in the direction of the sound, which grew louder as he went. Apprehensive that his plans for the rescue of his friend were already defeated, he peered cautiously round the corner of rock. He beheld a rough hill-track winding upwards from right to left across his front. Some distance to the right another track ran into the first, skirting a spur from a north-westerly direction. Nothing was visible on either track, but the regular monotonous creaking of the cart was drawing nearer.