Ganda Singh, who was among the party, translated his words to the men. The cessation of gun fire and Bob's confident manner somewhat restored their courage. They formed up, grasping their weapons nervously, and waited in panting eagerness, mingled with trepidation, for the expected signal.
It seemed a long time in coming. Bob knew that Lawrence had had to fly several miles down stream before he could turn. It came at last. Again sounded the sharp crash; again the air was filled with cries, in which there was no note of triumph: and Bob, with a cheery "Now, my men!" dashed across the bridge with the swarthy mountaineers at his heels. Reaching the other side, they turned to the left and raced across the open space formerly occupied by the miners' huts. Bob was only half conscious that the aeroplane was flying in the opposite direction high above his head. They were met neither by shells nor by bullets, and only when they sank breathless behind the shelter of the breastwork did a few rifle shots patter around them. Then all was quiet again.
Whatever the cause of the astonishing delay on Lawrence's part, his intervention now had been effectual, at any rate for a time. How far effectual? Bob wondered. He got up and looked over the parapet towards the enemy's breastwork a hundred yards away. They had apparently deserted it. Some, no doubt, had been slain by the explosions. Had the survivors fled in panic far away, or were they merely lying low beyond the bend? Then his eye caught what had escaped his observation from the greater distance of the compound wall. There were two embrasures a foot or two below the top of the breastwork, contrived by removing some of the loose rocks. But he saw no sign of guns. Perhaps the enemy in their retirement had dragged with them the one which had fired.
He heard the hum of the aeroplane again. Lawrence had still not landed, but was returning, perhaps to observe the extent of his work, perhaps to complete it. He was flying much lower than before. A sudden idea flashed into Bob's mind. The enemy's breastwork was only a hundred yards distant. Why not attempt to rush it under cover of the aeroplane; and if in the hurry of their flight they had left their gun, capture it and bring it to the mine?
His thought had hardly crystallized into a resolution when he heard two explosions in rapid succession, followed by yells and one or two rifle shots. The sound seemed to come from some distance beyond the bend. His mind was made up. He told Ganda Singh his intention, and could scarcely wait while the havildar translated his orders. The men responded with a "Hai! hai!" of delight. Like Bob himself they were worked up to a high pitch of excitement. Their rush had been successful. The risks were forgotten, or remembered only to be scorned. They were twenty against an unknown number, but none counted the odds. "Hai! hai!" they shouted, as their leader leapt round the angle of the entrenchment. They followed close upon him as he dashed over the intervening hundred yards of broken ground. No one faltered. In less than half a minute they were in possession of the enemy's breastwork, and at that instant there was another explosion far down the track.
Bob's glance fell first upon a score of prostrate forms scattered on the ground in the neighbourhood. Then with a thrill of delight he saw two field guns. One had been struck from its carriage, and lay near the brink of the stream. The other had apparently been withdrawn from its embrasure, but abandoned under the demoralizing shock of an explosion. Bob ran to the first. A moment's inspection showed him that it was irretrievably ruined. Calling two of the men, with their aid he toppled it into the river. The other was still workable. Looking around, he spied near the breastwork a number of shells which had escaped destruction by the bombs.
"Can you fire a gun?" he asked Ganda Singh eagerly.
"I am a gunner, sahib."
"Then slew it round. We'll turn it on the enemy."
He had remarked a number of the Kalmucks collected on the track some distance away. As he spoke, bullets began to whistle around, and two of his men were hit. Quickly the gun was turned round. Ganda Singh discovered that it was already loaded, and in another few seconds a shell sang on its deadly flight towards the enemy. They fled, to be pursued by another shell as soon as Ganda Singh could reload; and with this second shot the track was cleared for half a mile down stream. And then the aeroplane came whirring past overhead.