Old Ahsan, the gate-keeper, looked gloomily out of the lattice window and watched the proceedings of the invaders. He had spied Dilasah, his master's nephew, among them, and knew that the incident was more than an ordinary raid. Minghal's men gave no sign of any intention to collect the villagers' property—whether in goods or in animals—and afterwards burn the village; it was clear that the chief meant either to seize the place as his own, or to set his henchman Dilasah at the head of it. And that Ahsan had rightly guessed was proved when Minghal himself came to the foot of the tower and summoned all within it to descend and salaam to their new lord Dilasah.
Ahmed drew the gate-keeper back and put his head out.
"What dost thou think of us, Minghal Khan?" he cried scornfully. "Are we asses or even as camels? Know that we hold this tower for our rightful lord Rahmut, and thou had best return to thy little dwelling while there is yet time."
The Pathan's face darkened with anger.
"Thou darest mock me, Feringhi dog!" he cried. "Come down at once, or we will burn thee alive and send thee to the Pit."
But Ahmed only laughed. Talk of burning was mere foolishness, for the tower was of stone, and though they might burn the door, there was nothing else inflammable within their reach, save only the barricade which had been thrown across the winding stair, and even a Pathan's courage might shrink from attacking that in face of sturdy defenders armed with jazails on the stairs. Of this barricade, however, Minghal was as yet unaware, and his reply to Ahmed's scornful laugh was to set his men to make an assault upon the door. But they had no sooner approached it than a matchlock flashed from a narrow slit in the wall, and one of the assailants staggered back with a bullet in his leg. Furious, Minghal shouted to the other men to do his bidding, but another shot fell among them as they crowded about the door, and since they could not see who had fired, nor had any chance of hitting if they shot back, they made haste to flee out of harm's way, and Minghal himself saw that the task he had set them was impossible. The door was of stout and massive timber, and could not be broken in without a deal of hard battering; it would be folly to lose lives in that way when his purpose might be achieved by means of a charge of gunpowder. So he called off his men and bade them search the village for powder, not having brought more with him than was contained in his men's powder-flasks.
At this Ahmed chuckled: all the powder lay in two large bags in one of the upper rooms of the tower, whither it had been conveyed at the first alarm. The men's hunt through the village was fruitless. But Ahsan sighed heavily a little later when he saw two leave the village and gallop at a hot pace in the direction of Mandan.
"Minghal has sent for powder, Ahmed-ji," he said. "Without doubt we shall all be blown up."
"No, no; they cannot get back before morning," replied Ahmed, "and every day favours us. Maybe my father will come back earlier than we suppose."
"And if he does not?"