"We did not count them, sahib," said Fyz Ali, "but there must have been nearly thirty. There are not so many now," he added with a grim chuckle.
"And we number seven all told!" said Lawrence. "Look after the men while I talk to my brother."
"We're in a hole," said Bob. "The fellows aren't great marksmen, but we can't move the aeroplane while they command the space in front. They're only about a quarter of a mile away, and with a score of rifles they couldn't help hitting us."
"What was your idea?"
"To get aloft and fly down-stream to reconnoitre. I should like to know whether the rest of them are coming up from the camp. But that's out of the question."
"We're safe for the present, anyhow. They can't cross while we command the bridge."
"That's true. I wonder whether they can climb the hills, and get at us from above. You might ask Fyz Ali whether he knows of a path."
The Pathan consulted with his companions. One of them said that he knew of a rough path a mile lower down the river, which led by a tortuous and difficult course over the hills; but it involved a round of nearly ten miles, and the march would take at least five hours.
"By that time it will be dark," said Bob. "It's something to know that we are safe till then, and it gives us time to think out a plan. The one thing that's clear at present is that we must get back to the mine."
"And Uncle?"