"Things are going on first-rate," Nita said, when they halted early one morning.
"Yes, but we must not expect them always to go so well. This valley is getting larger. The houses are more carefully built, and it is, no doubt, inhabited by an increased population. You see, the robes that we are wearing will do well enough to pass at a distance, but they would not bear close inspection."
The next evening, emboldened by their good fortune, they started some time before the sun was down, and at a sudden turn in the pass came upon three Afridis.
"Walk straight on," Carter said.
Nita happened to be carrying the rifle, while Charlie had been obliged to lead the pony. The men paused when within twenty yards of them, and then a sudden exclamation broke from the party, and one raised his rifle and shouted, "Who are you?"
"We are travellers on our way to our homes, twenty miles off."
"You lie," the man said, pointing his gun at them, "you are not natives of the country."
Nita had thrown her rifle forward and fired at the same instant as the native. His bullet knocked off her turban, while she shot him through the body. With a shout of rage the other two men raised their rifles, but one fell dead before he could get it to his shoulder. The other fired a shot and then fled with the agility of a deer, getting cover in a moment round a sharp corner of the defile.
"It is unfortunate, but there was nothing else to be done," Carter said; "now what is our best course?"