They found themselves in a terrifying quandary. The space between them and their baffled comrades was illuminated by the fatal band of light. The machine gun had ceased to play on the track when it was cleared of the enemy. Now there were forty or fifty men trapped in the dark wedge-like area between the beam of the searchlight and the breastwork. They knew that if any of them dared to attempt a rush back they would be the target for innumerable bullets. One or two did rashly hazard a retreat, but as soon as they encroached upon the luminous band the gun’s rattle scarcely gave them warning of the shots that fell among them almost instantaneously. The rest cowered in the darkness, waiting for death. Bob had to hold his men with a tight rein to prevent them from leaping the breastwork and massacring their despairing foes. He had thought of a better way. Fyz Ali could make himself understood by them. Through his lips Bob told them that if they laid down their arms they might retire, taking their wounded with them. They eagerly accepted the proffered mercy, but shrank from acting on it, until they were assured that a message had been sent to the havildar to refrain from firing at them. Then, utterly cowed, they handed their weapons over the breastwork, gathered up such of their comrades as were yet alive, and carried them in all haste across the illuminated space and out of sight. This was an auspicious beginning for the fifth day. It was the greatest triumph that the garrison had as yet achieved, and the men were proportionably elated. The enemy on the other hand were dejected and despondent. For some hours they remained at a distance. In the afternoon, however, they resumed their skirmishing tactics, and under cover of a renewed bombardment crept nearer and nearer to the breastwork. When their field guns had to cease fire for fear of hitting the skirmishers, Bob decided to venture a charge, and led twenty of his best men in a sudden leap over the barricade. The enemy did not wait for the touch of the terrible bayonets. They fired a scattered volley and fled. A lucky shot from Ganda Singh’s rifle brought down one of the rearmost, and he rolled down the rocks on to the track. Acting on the unconsidered impulse of the moment Bob sent two of the Sikhs to make him prisoner, and when Lawrence shortly afterwards returned to the compound for his afternoon sleep, he took the wounded man with him, and had his injuries attended to. He proved to be an officer. Interrogating him through Shan Tai, Lawrence learnt that the general himself was on his way to the mine to make a personal inspection of the position. The Kalmuck, who seemed grateful for the attentions shown him, advised Lawrence to yield. His people’s comparative inactivity that day was only preliminary to a crushing blow. "Without your flying machine," he said, "you would by this time have been destroyed. That gave you an advantage. Soon the advantage will be on our side."