Jack bounded forward and gave a gasp of astonishment at the extraordinary sight before him. Four little men, clothed in blue, had leapt upon Me Dain from the bushes which lined the way. The powerful Burman was fighting desperately, and the ponies had run on ahead. But the four assailants were too much for him. They beset him on every side, clutching him, grappling with him like four wolves pulling down a deer. But even as Jack came into sight, the strangers had mastered Me Dain, and in a second he was dragged to the ground. With incredible speed and quickness they flung loops of rope around ankles and wrists, ran them taut, and made the Burman a prisoner. Then two of them dropped on Me Dain's legs and arms, and the third seized his hair and dragged his head forward. The fourth leapt a pace back as nimbly as a panther, and swung up a short, broad, heavy sword. It had all taken place so quickly that Jack had barely jerked his Mauser pistol from his holster when all was ready for the decapitation of their guide. But as the gleaming blade flashed above the head of the little man in blue, Jack laid the muzzle true for his ribs and pulled the trigger. The heavy bullet tore its way through the headsman's body, and with a wild cry he pitched forward on the captive's prostrate form. His three companions vanished into the jungle beside them as Jack ran forward. He did not dare to fire at them, for he might have struck Me Dain. Not one of them rose, but darted away along the ground like four-footed creatures, and just as nimbly. Jack whipped out his knife and slashed the bonds across; the Burman at once leapt to his feet. As he did so, the other two ran up, pistol in hand. "An attack!" cried Buck. "What's this game? Why, it's a Kachin. You dropped him, Jack?" "Yes," said Jack, "he was going to lop Me Dain's head off with this sword." Jim picked the blade up and looked at it carefully. "A Kachin _dah_ (native sword)," he said. "Did you see any more of them about, Jack?" "Yes, there were four; three of them have cut into the jungle." "Come on, sahibs," cried Me Dain, who was very little disturbed by his queer experience, "this dangerous place to stop. Perhaps they come back with _jingals_ (native guns)." "What do you make of it, Me Dain?" said Buck. "Dacoits, sahib, dacoits; let us hurry. That man is dead," pointing to his would-be executioner, "but plenty more in the forest." He seized the _dah_ as a weapon for himself, and all four hurried after the ponies, who had come to a stand fifty yards farther along the narrow way. "Queer business, dacoits so near a village," muttered Jim. "Let's see what the headman has got to say about it." CHAPTER XI. BELEAGUERED.