As soon as the Sikhs arrived, he ordered the men to resume their drilling, for which the bonfire gave sufficient light. The first sounds attracted the attention of the enemy. They raised their voices, and Bob, grasping his revolver, told the Sikhs to level their rifles and fire if he gave the word. All were concealed from the enemy by the shoulder of the cliff. The work went on without interference from the enemy beyond, but presently shots began to patter on the rocks from the rifles of those who had passed up the valley. The bonfire was now an inconvenience, and the danger was greater to Bob and the Sikhs, who stood erect, than to the miners stretched on the ground. But it was a risk that must be endured, and Bob spoke a cheery word to the men at his side, and urged the miners to hurry on with their work. Unknown to him, at the first shot Lawrence had led the other Sikhs across the bridge and posted them on the track, to repel the Kalmucks if they should venture nearer to get a better aim. In a quarter of an hour the drilling was finished. Bob sent the miners back, and himself laid the charge of dynamite. Then he inserted the wire, and retreated with Fazl and the Sikhs. "Good man!" he said to Lawrence when he reached the bridge. "It’s all done. We’ve only to make the contact." "Nobody hit?" asked Lawrence anxiously. "Never a man. I think we’d have done better. Now let’s get back. In five minutes we’ll have a little earthquake." They crossed into the compound, the bridge was raised, and Bob sent Fazl into the shed where the battery was kept, to complete the electric circuit. The firing had ceased. Nothing was to be heard but the rushing water. In a few minutes there was a dull, sullen rumble; the ground quivered, and immediately afterwards a terrific crash which echoed and re-echoed along the valley. The bonfire was suddenly obliterated as by an extinguisher. "Another trick to us!" said Bob gleefully. "And now I think we can go to sleep with an easy mind. They won’t get past till they’ve moved a thousand cartloads of rubbish." "What about those fellows who got past?" "We can leave Gur Buksh to deal with them. They can’t get into the compound; if they did they’d never get out again. I shouldn’t wonder if they’re wishing they hadn’t been in quite such a hurry. Now, my boy, bed: neither you nor I will need any rocking to-night. It’s barely eight o’clock: we ought to get a good twelve hours, and I can do with it all." They felt a strange pang as they passed through their uncle’s room. It was the first time they had entered it since the fatal morning when they set out so cheerfully with him in pursuit of Nurla Bai. Neither spoke of him; his loss touched them now with a poignancy of feeling that would not endure expression. Bob closed the door quietly, as if a sleeper lay within; and both undressed in silence. CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH A CRY IN THE NIGHT