This was serious and I immediately rode forward with an escort of about a dozen cavalrymen. But we had not proceeded far when, quite suddenly, a heavy fire was opened on us from the hills. Fortunately no one was hit, but it was a miraculous escape, for the ground around us was literally ploughed up with bullets.
We dismounted, attacked and regained the picket-post. As Brownlow and I entered the sangar I noticed, on the ground at my feet, one of my own cigarette boxes, which had been taken by the Raiders when they captured my kit on its way from Nushki to Robat.
The dozen Sawars were now left to defend the spring, at any cost, and Brownlow and I returned to the main body, meeting on the way the Sarhad-dar, with some of the Rekis, who were coming to our assistance. However, the danger was over for the moment.
The Rekis solemnly assured me that I must be tir-band (immune from fire). They had watched the hail of bullets from the hills spattering around us, and could yet hardly believe we had none of us been hit.
I had already found by experience that it was always wise to take advantage of little superstitious suggestions of this sort, so solemnly replied that it was a well-known fact that I was tir-band!
We had now seen enough of the enemy's ways and methods to realise his inclination to waste a great deal of invaluable ammunition at long ranges. We, therefore, decided upon what seemed a wise course of action. Realising that to attack him in the hills would be too expensive we would remain down in the open, anyhow for a few days, draw his fire, and give him a good opportunity of eating up his limited food supply. We had food for a month, and knew that he had only sufficient to last four or five days.
Accordingly we camped where we were for that night, and on the following morning moved a little farther back towards the Gusht gorge, taking up the position upon which we had camped when first entering the valley.
On that short rearward march we were fired at continuously, first at long range, and then, as the enemy grew bolder, at close quarters. We could distinctly hear them shouting as they came, crouching low amongst the rocks and scrub of the hill-sides. They were humorists, too, these Sarhadis, for, between the shouts, we could catch a very passable imitation of the rat-a-tat-tat noise of our machine guns. They came, at last, near enough to shout at me, directly and personally, calling on me to surrender; promising if I did so to spare my life, and also informing me that it was no good trying to fight any longer as I was practically surrounded, and my retreat cut off. They used the selfsame expressions I had so often used when summoning them to surrender. This was turning the tables with a vengeance! But we quickly saw that their boast as to having cut our retreat was not altogether an idle one. They had, at this stage, actually occupied a little mud fort crowning a small hillock. This hillock lay like an island in the bottom of the valley, and commanded the camping ground we were making for.
The Raiders could be plainly seen shooting at us through the loop-holes, but, unfortunately for them, Lieutenant English promptly trained one of his mountain guns on the fort. The first round fired hit its mark, burst inside, and raised a huge cloud of dust. Its disconcerted occupants promptly bolted, and the way to our camping ground lay open.
Here it was possible to place the whole force in comparative safety, partly owing to the cover afforded by the hillock with the mud fort on its summit, and in a greater measure to the very convex slopes of the hills to the North, which gave us complete shelter from snipers' bullets.