"Yes, it may be so. In the last war the Greeks held it for a time against the Turks. The place is well chosen for a watch-tower. From the top you see for many miles, most freely towards the north-east, whence we have come; less freely, but still a great way, towards the south-west, in which direction the British Army is retreating, monsieur. Tchk! Why did not your country and France allow us to fall on the Bulgars before they were ready? Serbia pays a heavy price." Burton felt he had nothing to say to this, and after a few condoling words returned to his place by Enderby’s side. The information he had gathered had caused his half-formed idea to crystallise. "I say!" he began, seating himself on the edge of the cart. "Say on," returned Enderby, smiling at his friend’s solemn face. "Well, there are only ten or eleven in the tower above there." "What is the precise force of your adverb?" "What adverb? Oh, ’only.’ Well, ten or eleven’s not a great crowd. There are four of us, without counting you and the woman----" "Three men and a boy! We’ll assume for the moment that one Englishman is worth four of any other nation; but are your two and a half Serbs equal to the other six or seven? Of course I see what you are driving at." "Well, isn’t it worth trying? There’s no doubt that a Bulgarian column intends to cut off our men’s retreat, and if we could seize the tower, and hold them up even for an hour or two, it might make all the difference." "But they’re in possession; and remember, the attack needs more men than the defence. The odds are dead against you, Ted." "Not altogether. You must allow for the darkness, surprise, and the cocksureness of the enemy. Didn’t a corporal carry off twelve prisoners single-handed at Loos the other day? With a little luck----" "We’ve a way of assuming that the luck is going to be on our side! Well, see what the old Serb says. I must be out of it, unfortunately; but you needn’t consider me." "That’s very good of you, but, of course, I do consider you. If it wasn’t for you I’d not hesitate a moment." "Don’t let that trouble you. At the worst they’ll only collar me. The risks will be wholly yours." Burton returned to the Serbs, sat down beside them, and talked to them until the dusk had deepened into night. The upshot of their conversation was presently disclosed. While young Marco was thoroughly greasing the axle-trees, Burton inflicted a still deeper wound on the dignity of Captain von Hildenheim by gagging him. Milosh was already in possession of his revolver. Then the little party started quietly on the upward track.