"Ibrahim," he said, "don't look round while I speak to you, but go on with your cooking. I don't like the look of the leader of this party. He may be a respectable trader, he may be a Dacoit or a Thug. I want you to keep a sharp lookout, without seeming to do so. See that your pistols will come out of your girdle easily. Keep your sword handy for use. If you see anything suspicious, come over and tell me, and if there is not time for that, shout." "I will watch, Sahib," Ibrahim said. "But they seem to me peaceable men like ourselves. Of course they carry weapons. No one would travel about, with merchandise, without doing so." "They may be all right, Ibrahim, but I have a sort of feeling that they are not, and at any rate, it is best to be cautious." The other party did not light a fire, but sat down and ate some provisions they carried with them. When Surajah and Dick had finished their meal, the leader again strolled over to them. He asked whether they intended to sleep, and on hearing that they did not, he again sat down with them. He proceeded to discuss trading matters, to describe the goods he carried, the places where he had purchased them, and the prices he had given. As he talked, Dick noticed that three or four of the others came across. They did not sit down, but stood round listening to the conversation, and sometimes joining in. Dick's feeling of uneasiness increased, and thrusting one hand carelessly into his girdle, he grasped the butt of one of his hidden pistols. Suddenly a loud cry came from Ibrahim. At the same moment something passed before Dick's face. He threw himself backwards, drawing his pistol as he did so, and fired into the body of the man behind him. A second later he shot another, who was in the act of throwing a twisted handkerchief round Surajah's neck. Then he leapt to his feet, delivering, as he did so, a heavy blow, with the barrel of his pistol, on the head of the trader who had been sitting between him and Surajah. It had all passed in a few seconds, and the other men started back, in their surprise at this unexpected failure of their plan. Surajah was on his feet almost as quickly as Dick. Even yet, he did not understand what had happened. At this moment there was the crack of another pistol, and then Ibrahim came running towards them, having shot a man who had suddenly drawn his sword, and tried to cut him down. At his heels came the six men who had, up to this point, been standing in a group near their horses. Without hesitation, Dick drew out one of his single-barrelled pistols and shot the pretended trader, whose turban had saved him from the effect of the blow, and who, shouting loudly to his companions, was struggling to his feet. The remaining eight men had all drawn their swords, and were rushing upon them. "Fire, Surajah!" Dick shouted. "Are you asleep, man?"