Watson avoided looking into the older man's face. "Approximately half a million according to Hawkins' estimate. He flew over them this morning." "Half a million!" "Including the nomads, of course," Joe Chessman said. "The nomads fight more like a mob than an army." Plekhanov was shaking his massive head. "Most of them will melt away if we continue to avoid battle. They can't feed that many men on the countryside. The nomads in particular will return home if they don't get a fight soon." Watson hid his impatience. "That's the point, sir. If we don't break their power now, in a decisive defeat, we'll have them to fight again, later. And already they've got iron swords, the crossbow and even a few muskets. Given time and they'll all be so armed. Then the fat'll be in the fire." "He's right," Joe Chessman said sourly. Reif nodded his head. "We must finish them now, if we can. The task will be twice as great next year." Plekhanov grumbled in irritation. "Half a million of them and something like forty thousand of our Tulans." Reif corrected him. "Some thirty thousand Tulans, all infantrymen." He added, "And eight thousand allied cavalry only some of whom can be trusted." Reif's ten-year-old son came up next to him and peered down at the map. "What's that child doing here?" Plekhanov snapped. Reif looked into the other's face. "This is Taller Second, my son. You from First Earth have never bothered to study our customs. One of them is that a Khan's son participates in all battles his father does. It is his training." Watson was pointing out features on the map again. "It will take three days for their full army to get in here." He added with emphasis, "In retreat, it would take them the same time to get out." Plekhanov scowled heavily. "We can't risk it. If we were defeated, we have no reserve army. We'd have lost everything." He looked at Joe Chessman and Watson significantly. "We'd have to flee back to the _Pedagogue_." Reif's face was expressionless. Barry Watson looked at him. "We won't desert you, Reif, forget about that aspect of it." Reif said, "I believe you, Barry Watson. You are a ... soldier." Dick Hawkins' small biplane zoomed in, landed expertly at the knoll's foot. The occupant vaulted out and approached them at a half run. Hawkins called as soon as he was within shouting distance. "They're moving in. Their advance cavalry units are already in the pass." When he was with them, Plekhanov rubbed his hand nervously over heavy lips. He rumbled, "The cavalry, eh? Listen, Hawkins, get back there and dust them. Use the gas." The pilot said slowly, "I have four bullet holes in my wings." "Bullet holes!" Joe Chessman snapped. Hawkins turned to him. "By the looks of things, MacBride's whole unit has gone over to the rebels. Complete with their double-barreled muskets. A full thousand of them." Watson looked frigidly at Leonid Plekhanov. "You insisted on issuing guns to men we weren't sure of."