“Way behind with Kyrlos. Wanted to come up and join you, but Kyrlos said he wasn’t going to have all his three guests out of his sight at once, so John is more or less tied to the old man’s saddle, cursing like a trooper because they’re so slow getting under way. Well, there goes Stephnos; I’m off. See you later, Harry.” And the next moment he was cantering up the road after the tail of Stephnos’s column. We were in sight of the hills and the defile that I wanted to reach before we came on the first sign of the enemy, who had evidently not been so fast as we expected. We marched through a little hamlet, and in the middle of it were some dead men--Brown Sakae, Philos said--and two wounded horsemen of Stephnos’s troop sitting on the roadside talking to the villagers. Both sides had reached the place simultaneously, and the scuffle which followed had ended in the enemy bolting back. We reached the defile, and I breathed a sigh of relief at this unexpected good fortune. Halting my column, I rode up with Philos to the top of the hill on the right, and there in front of me was the enemy force--not an inspiriting sight in view of our numbers. They were about two miles away, long low dust columns, and behind them the smoke of burning ricks and thatch. Closer to us were parties of mounted men, and perhaps a mile ahead in three parties Stephnos’s little force. Looking through my glasses, I saw one of his troops chasing back an enemy party. As Wrexham had said, Master Stephnos was a thruster all right. We had won by a short neck, and the next thing was to get into position as quickly as possible. Just at this point the Astara, quite unfordable, closes in on to the road from the left as you look toward the Shaman country. At the point where we were it was not more than three hundred yards from the road, and behind us it swerved out in a wide curve southeastward. About half a mile in front it was joined by a sluggish stream running in a marshy depression, which curved round our right flank toward the hills. Between the marshy stream and the main road was the hillock we were standing on, perhaps two hundred yards long and one hundred and fifty feet high, while on the opposite side, between the road and the river, was a lower, smaller hill. It was an ideal position for a small force to delay an enemy, since our left flank was absolutely secure, so long as we held the lesser height, while the approach across the stream and marshland on our right was anything but easy. All around the bigger hill, about halfway up, ran a thick thorn hedge enclosing an orchard. The smaller hill had on the forward slope two or three mud buildings and a small stone wall, which would give some cover to the defenders.