Hitherto the enemy had preserved a remarkable silence. The two Pathans, on the other hand, had raised lusty shouts, calling to their companions by name. Roused by the shots, and urged on by their comrades’ cries, the Pathans behind the rocks some little distance up-stream came bounding to the rescue. Lawrence heard scrambling footsteps above him; he was kicked in the side by a man coming hastily down the bank, and the sound of splashes near at hand seemed to show that the enemy, in full retreat, were plunging into the river. Their surprise having failed, they had lost heart. Climbing the bank on all fours, Lawrence found his whole party assembled above. Just as he reached them, the newcomers opened fire upon several figures which they saw swinging themselves over by the rope. At the first shot these men halted, turned, and began frantically to work themselves back towards the farther side. Then Fyz Ali sprang forward on to the tangled debris of the bridge, and with two sweeping strokes of his knife cut the rope in twain. There was a mighty splash, a howl of rage, and then silence. "What orders, sahib?" said the Pathan. In the short, sharp, confused struggle, the men were unaware of Lawrence’s narrow escape, and were no more concerned about him than about themselves. Every one of them bore some mark of the conflict--bruise, abrasion, or knife-cut. Lawrence felt bruised from top to toe. But in the dark no man could see his fellow’s wounds, and it would have been thought childish to talk of them. "We had better stay here for the rest of the night," said Lawrence, in reply to Fyz Ali’s question. "You have quite done for the bridge, and it’s no use to anybody. But those badmashes got over some other way, and they would do it again if we weren’t here to stop them." "That is true, sahib--if they like to put their fingers into the fire." "How did they get across? They could hardly swim up against the current." "Mashallah! Who can say? But we shall know in the morning, sahib." There was no more dozing that night. The whole party sat nursing their rifles and chatting quietly. Lawrence got the men to relate some of the experiences of their life, and though he could not understand very much of what they said, he recognized that there was a rich mine of anecdote to be drawn upon as soon as he had sufficient command of their language. The remaining hours of darkness were undisturbed, and at dawn there was no renewal of hostilities. The daylight gave a clue to the means by which the enemy had crossed the river. At the foot of the rocks south of the bridge, near Lawrence’s rifle, lay several inflated water-skins. Fyz Ali guessed that the men had crept along the opposite bank to some distance above the bridge, then taken the water, and supporting themselves on the skins, had steered themselves over.