The natives, seeing that the two men were apparently unarmed, rushed forward, firing their guns as they did so. Two of them fell before Lisle's revolver. One of the natives rushed with clubbed musket at him but, as he delivered the blow, the butt end of the musket struck a bough overhead and flew out of the man's hand; and Lisle, putting his revolver to his head, shot him. The other man ran off.
Lisle had now time to look round and, to his dismay, the Sikh was leaning against the branch of a tree.
"Are you hit?" he asked.
"Yes, sahib, a ball has broken my right leg."
"That is a bad business, indeed," Lisle said, kneeling beside him.
"It cannot be helped, sahib. Our fate is meted out to us all, and it has come to me now. You could not drag me from here, or carry me; it would be impossible, for I weigh far more than you do."
Lisle was silent for a moment.
"I see," he said, "that the only thing I can do is to push on to camp, and bring out assistance. I will leave you my pistol, when I have recharged it; so that if the native who has run away should bring others down, you will be able to defend yourself. As, however, you remained on your feet, he will not know that you were wounded; and will probably suppose that we would at once push on to join our companions. Still, it will be well for you to have the weapon.
"Now, let me lower you down to the ground, and seat you as comfortably as I can. I will leave these bananas by you, and my flask of water. It is lucky, now, that I did not drink it all when I started to cross the river.
"I suppose they will have halted at the same camp as before. It was a long march, and we must still be ten or twelve miles away from it, so I fear it will be dark long before I get there."