“What did he say?” asked Holm sharply.
“He said that he had heard privately that the Bada-Mawidi were planning an attack on you to-morrow or the day after.”
“The deuce they are,” said Holm peevishly, and Thwaite’s face lengthened.
“And he told me to find some way of letting you know.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me earlier?” said Thwaite. “Marker should know if anybody does. We should have kept Holm up there. Now it’s almost too late. Oh, this is the devil!”
Lewis held his peace. He had forgotten the solidity of Marker’s reputation.
“What’s the chances of the place?” Thwaite was asking. “I know your numbers and all that, but are they anything like prepared?”
“I don’t know,” said Holm miserably. “They might get on all right, but everybody is pretty slack just now. Andy has a touch of fever, and some of the men may get leave for shooting. I must get back at once.”
“You can’t. Why, man, you couldn’t get half way. And what’s more, I can’t go. This place wants all the looking after it can get. A row in the hills means a very good possibility of a row in Bardur, and that is too dangerous a game. And besides myself there is scarcely a man in the place who counts. Logan has gone to Gilgit, and there’s nobody left but boys.”
“If you don’t mind I should like to go,” said Lewis shamefacedly.