At that moment he was more concerned about the fate of the aeroplane than about his own. It would be of no use to the enemy; they would probably destroy it, and that prospect enraged him. For the first time he felt a real desire to fight and slay, and wondered whether, when the enemy came into the open, he might not pick them off one by one. After all, he thought, his position in the hollow gave him some advantage. They could not take good aim at him, whereas if they attempted to rush him across the open space, he could mark them down almost at his leisure. His reflections were suddenly cut short by a rifle-shot. A bullet struck the ground unpleasantly near him, and sent up a spurt of earth, some of which struck him. He crouched still lower in the hollow. Escape was now out of the question: he must simply wait and take what opening of defending himself offered. The shot had been fired from the clump of wood. Immediately afterwards the man on the hill-side stood erect in the attitude of taking aim. Lawrence hastily levelled his rifle and took a rough shot at him, with what effect he could not tell, for his attention was at once called off by a rush of the man in the wood, who dashed forward over several yards towards a patch of bush nearer to the hollow. Lawrence felt that his position was even worse than he had supposed. The enemy had scattered with a definite plan. They meant to work their way gradually towards him under cover, distracting him by firing in turn, until they thought it possible to overwhelm him with a final rush from several sides. He wished he had acted on his first impulse to sprint towards the wood on the south. Was it possible even now to do it? A sudden twinge in his ankle gave him the answer. They had him in a trap. [Illustration: THE KALMUCKS MAKE A PRISONER] And then he saw something flickering by a tree up the hill-side. It seemed to be a piece of cloth. Was it a flag of truce? While he was watching it there was a patter of feet behind him. Three men had risen as it were out of the earth southwards of the hollow. Before he could rise they flung themselves upon him. He was dashed to the ground. He made desperate efforts to free himself, writhing, kicking, trying to free one of his hands to use his revolver. But they pinned him down: one snatched his revolver from him, the others held him firmly by the neck and feet, and when his hopeless struggles ceased they whipped off their leather girdles and tied him up so that he was unable to move. Then they turned him on his back, uttering guttural grunts of satisfaction, and he looked up into the malicious faces of Nurla Bai and Black Jack. CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH A FRIEND IN NEED