Their leader, a magnificent old man who topped even his fellows by a few inches, was grey and austere, and he stood there with his beautifully chiselled features turned towards us in a long stare of inquiry. Then words passed between him and the others--apparently his attendants--and one of the most youthful looking took a few steps in our direction and hailed us. The words were spoken in a clear, resonant voice, totally unlike the throttled utterance of Asia, but listen closely as I might I couldn't place the language. We remained halted, wondering what was going to happen next. It was impossible to tell from the cold impassive demeanour of the strangers whether their attitude was intended to be hostile or friendly, but I knew well enough that the words that had been spoken were a command. The situation was getting irksome. Our comrade lay somewhere on that hillside, perhaps dying, and every instant we wasted here we might be throwing away his life. 'Plenty of time to converse with these statuesque heroes later,' said Poyning, turning away. 'I'm going to look for Philipson.' But the newcomers seemed to think otherwise. Three of them ran up and stood between us and the mountain top, waiting for the others to approach, which they at once did, the tall greyhead leading. They spoke to us again in that strange tongue I couldn't place. Then I tried my stock of languages, which, so far as regions between the Caspian and the China Sea are concerned, is richer than most men's. I spoke to them in Tibetan, Mongol, several brands of Chinese, Turki, even in dialects of the Khirghiz Steppes that I had picked up some years before, but all to no effect. I made all kinds of excursions into sign language, but I was in such a fever of impatience that I make no doubt my gestures became merely wild and unintelligible. At last I could stand it no longer. 'You fools!' I blurted out in English. 'The man's dying, and here are we gabbling like a lot of fishwives!' With that I broke away from them. It was a futile step. Two of them were upon me in an instant, pinioning my arms in a grip of steel. Even without my game ankle I shouldn't have stood an earthly chance with those giants. I was dragged back into their midst. They spoke to us sternly, in the same elusive tongue. Suddenly, Poyning began to struggle in the grasp of two of the men who had also seized him, and uttered some words that at once struck my ear with a curiously familiar note. I stared at him, as did the strangers, but a moment after they had released his arms and were nodding their heads with some appearance of comprehension. They answered him, speaking slowly and distinctly.