The midshipman smiled grimly. He had a most atrocious voice when it came to singing, and he knew it. Far from being sensitive on the point, he took the Sub's banter in good part. Up and up the fugitives toiled, until from sheer breathlessness they were compelled to throw themselves upon the ground. The sight that met their was superb. The whole of The Narrows and a large portion of the rest of the Dardanelles was plainly visible: a narrow silvery streak under the beams of innumerable search-lights. Beyond, also marked by the sources of dozens of slowly-swaying beams of light, were the forts on the European side, backed by the lofty hills of the narrow Gallipoli peninsula. Twenty miles away a regular galaxy of light marked the position of the Allied fleets, the search-lights of which kept ceaseless watch and ward against any possible, nay probable, attempt on the part of the Turks to assail them by means of their destroyers and torpedo-boats. "Reminds me of Spithead on review nights as seen from the top of Portsdown Hill," declared Farnworth. "I wish I were there now! No, I don't. I'd rather be over there." And he pointed in the direction of the British fleet, amongst which lay, as far as he knew, the old _Hammerer_. "Better be moving," suggested Dick. Although he said nothing about the matter to his companion, he was beginning to become painfully aware of the injury to his ankle. So long as he kept in motion the injury troubled him but little; during his enforced rest it began to burn and throb. The pangs of hunger were also making themselves felt. With the rising of the sun he knew that another discomfort--thirst--would be added to their lot. Long before the fugitives reached the summit of the steep mountain, dawn was upon them. With a rapidity that almost equalled the shortness of the tropical break of day, it grew light; then above the crest of a yet unsurmounted hill rose the sun. "Phew! It is hot," ejaculated Farnworth, opening his greatcoat. Then he stopped and burst out into laughter. "We are a proper pair, sir," he exclaimed. Their faces were grimed with dirt and dust; their grey uniforms were discoloured with mud and rent in several places, owing to their encounter with the prickly bushes. Dick's rough-and-ready "shave" with the scissors had left enough bristles to give him a truly ferocious appearance, while Farnworth's face was streaked with dried blood from several scratches he had received during the hazardous journey from Fort Medjidieh. Acting upon their previous plans the two officers "laid low" during the greater part of the day. Fortunately they were able to assuage their thirst at a rivulet that trickled down the mountainside, but the pangs of hunger had become most acute.