Then the sound of swift, heavy blows came to his ears, and he looked in the direction whence they proceeded. His call of joy was checked in an instant. What were those three figures in blue doing down there? In a second he saw what it meant, and he dropped on one knee and clapped his Mannlicher to his shoulder with a cry of anger. The dacoits had been more cunning than they suspected. The pursuers knew also of the bridge, and at this very instant three powerful Kachins were hacking away with their keen, heavy _dahs_, cutting the bridge down. The three men in blue were so intent on their work that they never once glanced upwards. They were slashing fiercely at the nearer end of the bridge, and were about two hundred and fifty yards away. A rifle-bullet would reach them more quickly than anything, and Jack drew a careful bead on the nearest worker and fired. His bullet went through the arm which had just swung up the heavy blade for a fresh stroke at the frail bridge, and the _dah_ dropped into the water, while the dacoit's yell of pain came clearly to the ears of the party now gathered on the edge of the ravine. "Gosh!" cried Buck. "They're ahead of us." "So they are," snapped Jim. "They're cutting down the bridge and penning us in. Drop 'em, boys, drop 'em quick, or it's all over with us." At the next instant a swift shower of the tiny slips of lead was pelting on to the bridge head where the two dacoits still hacked away, striking harder and faster now that the rifles cracked on the lip of the ravine. One dropped into the river with a splash, the other leapt into cover of the big tree to which the bridge was swung, and was safe from the darting bullets. But his gleaming _dah_ still flashed into sight now and again as he hewed fiercely at the bridge. Jack at once bounded out, and, followed by his companions, raced madly for the place. The bridge was but a slight affair, a native structure formed of a couple of long bamboo poles with cross pieces lashed into place by native cordage. The lower slope of the ravine was covered with tall bushes of wild plum, and, as Jack ran through these, he lost sight, for a few moments, of the bridge and the busy dacoit. He burst through them with a straight, open run before him of seventy yards to the bridge head. His heart beat thick and fast as he flew across the open. The blows of the _dah_ had ceased. Had the bridge gone or not? A little clump of water-grasses on the bank hid the bridge from him, but the silence was terribly ominous. He thought he saw a blue kilt disappearing among the trees, but he did not stay to intercept it. He shot up to the edge of the stream, and saw a horrible space of blank water between bank and bank. The bridge was swinging slowly towards the other side. Held fast there, the current was thrusting the slight structure across the stream. The dacoits had succeeded in their plan.