"That was right and reasonable, and a judgement quickly given! Thy friend, bahadur!" He spoke low on purpose, but Mahommed Gunga heard him, caught Cunningham's eye, and grinned.

He saw a way to save his face, at all events.
"That was a trick well turned, sahib!" he whispered, as Alwa moved away.
"Alwa will listen in future when Cunnigan-bahadur speaks!" "Go down and tell Jaimihr that I come in person!" ordered Alwa, and the man dropped down the cliff side for the third time; they could hear his voice, high-pitched, resounding off the rock, and they caught a faint murmur of the answer.

Below, Jaimihr could be seen waiting patiently, checking his restive war-horse with a long-cheeked bit, and waiting, ready to ride under the gate the moment it was opened.

Rosemary McClean came over; she and Cunningham and the missionary leaned together over the battlement and watched.
"We might do some execution with rifles from here," Cunningham suggested; "I believe I'll send for mine." But Mahommed Gunga overheard him.
"Nay, sahib! No shooting will be necessary.

Watch!" There was a clatter of hoofs, and they all looked up in time to see the tails of the last four chargers disappearing round the corner, downward.
They had gone--full pelt--down a path that a man might hesitate to take! From where they stood, there was an archer's view of every inch of the only rock-hewn road that led from the gate to the summit of the cliff; an enemy who had burst the gate in would have had to climb in the teeth of a searching hail of missiles, with little chance of shooting back.
They could see the gate itself, and Jaimihr on the other side.
And, swooping--shooting--sliding down the trail like a storm-loosed avalanche, they could see the nine go, led by Alwa.