One idea leads to another, and next minute Bob was asking himself whether even now he could not make an attempt to turn the aeroplane to military uses. A few bombs dropped among or near the Kalmucks would put an effective check upon their pursuit of the Pathans. He had no bombs; could he improvise some? There was plenty of dynamite in the little recess behind the house. And in another moment a plan flashed upon his mind. Flinging away the end of his cigarette he hurried to Ditta Lal’s store shed. "Babu, have you got any small empty tins?" he asked, bursting into the room. Ditta Lal jumped. "My nerves are in terrible state, sir," he said. "Tins! Yes, to be sure: coffee, preserved pears, condensed milk, sardines--or more correctly, bristlings: tins of all sorts, quite an embarrassment." "Get me a dozen or two tins with lids: there are several tobacco tins in the house. Fill them nearly to the top with small stones, with a few percussion caps among them: you’ll get them from the havildar. Be as quick as you can." "Pardon me, sir, are you intending to lay a mine, floating or otherwise?" Bob had not waited for the conclusion of the question, but hurried to the little private store behind the house, from which he returned presently with a quantity of dynamite. The Babu was too slow for him. He sent Chunda Beg and Shan Tai hunting for tins, and as they were prepared according to his directions, he carefully filled them up with dynamite and securely fastened the lids. When he had fifteen ready, he put them into a basket, and carried them himself along the pathway to the aeroplane. Fazl had meanwhile got everything ready for another flight. "You know what a bomb is, Fazl?" said Bob. The Gurkha grinned. "Well, these tins are bombs. Put them just below your seat: take care not to drop one. We are going up the river: give me the tins one by one as I ask for them." They started. For the first mile or two Bob kept very low over the river, seeing here and there, at long intervals, traces of the fight waged between the Pathans and the Kalmucks--figures lying prone and motionless, others sitting with their backs against the rocks, one or two limping painfully along. Presently he heard the dull cracks of rifles, though as yet he could not see the combatants. As the sounds grew louder, he rose higher: with his explosive cargo on board it was more than ever necessary that he should keep out of range. Experience had already shown him that the aeroplane in full flight was a very difficult object to hit with ordinary weapons; but nothing must be left to chance now. CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH RALLYING THE PATHANS