The Kalmucks came opposite the bridge. At Bob’s command Fazl shouted his instructions across the river. When the drawbridge was lowered, Nurla Bai and his man were to cross. The escort were to return to their companions, and explain that later on, at a signal given by rifle-shots, they were to come forward ten at a time, hand their weapons to the Sikhs stationed at the bridge end to receive them, and pass down the track. The miners made no response, but stood motionless on the farther bank. At a word from Bob, the bridge-man turned his windlass, and the bridge, with much creaking, began slowly to descend. The end had almost reached the platform on which it rested when, with a suddenness that took everybody by surprise, Nurla Bai and Black Jack dived off the bank into the river, sheltered by the descending bridge. Next moment several rifle-shots rang out; the Sikhs had fired, rather because they felt that they must do something than because there was any real chance of hitting the fugitives. Then they ran along by the wall, to watch for the two men to reappear. Bob followed them; the crowd of servants and Pathans, shouting with excitement, rushed in the same direction. Ditta Lal waddled breathless in the rear. At this, the narrowest part of the valley for many miles, the current rushed through the gorge like a mill-race. Nurla Bai had chosen his moment well, reckoning on the rapidity of the stream to bear him out of harm’s way. Some seconds passed before a black head was seen bobbing on the surface of the swirling flood a hundred and fifty yards away. "Don’t fire!" shouted Bob. He was only in the nick of time, for the Sikhs already had their rifles at the shoulder, pointed at the black object in the water. With soldierly obedience they kept their fingers from the trigger, though they were amazed at the order. Bob was astonished at himself. His command had been almost involuntary; only after he had spoken was he conscious of the motive impelling him. It was a sportsman’s admiration for pluck and resourcefulness. Of course the Kalmucks had tricked him, but he was young enough to admire their courage more than he resented their trickery. In another moment the head had disappeared. It was now too late to change his mind, even if he had wished it. "They are gone!" screamed the Babu. "Sir, you have allowed them to bunk. Why this fatal hesitation? Why this neglect of precious opportunity? You cast pearls before swine, sir--and by pearls I mean mercy and ruth and all that. They will turn again and rend you. Sir, I repeat----" Here Bob cut in. As a rule he was disposed to humour the Babu, whom he found amusing at times, and whom he believed to be well-intentioned. Now, however, he had neither time nor patience to argue, even if any amount of argument could have made the Bengali understand his point of view.