It was, he said, like following an old lion into bush when there was but one narrow way in, and no road out.
The guns began again--the Turkish guns from behind the ridge--and a shell tore up the wire a short way before him.

Under cover of the burst he made good a few yards, leaving large portions of his clothing in the strands.

Then, quite suddenly, when hope had almost died in his heart, he felt the ground rise steeply.

He lay very still, a star-rocket from the Turkish side lit up the place, and there in front was a rampart with the points of bayonets showing beyond it.

It was the Russian hour for stand-to.
He raised his cramped limbs from the ground and shouted 'Friend! English!' A face looked down at him, and then the darkness again descended.
'Friend,' he said hoarsely.