find shelter and hiding.

Me Dain went first leading a pony, Buck followed with a second pony,
Jim and Jack brought up the rear, their rifles ready for any pursuers
who might hit on their trail.

[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON THE MONASTERY.]

They were on the edge of the forest when a confused uproar of voices
told them that the dacoits had swarmed down the stairs and were in
the stronghold they had so luckily deserted. But even as the shouts of
the Kachins rang in their ears, the sounds were dulled, for Me Dain
plunged into a narrow path running through a thicket of bamboos, and
they left the clearing behind them.

"Will they follow us?" whispered Jack to his companion.

"It would be sheer luck if they hit on our track now," replied Dent in
the same soft tones. "Me Dain is leading us by a path that it isn't
likely these fellows know. Coming from a distance, they would only
know the chief road through the village, and they are almost certain
to divide and strike along that in both directions, thinking we have
fled towards the next village."

"Where is the old Burman whom we found in the monastery?" asked Jack.

"Dead, poor old chap," replied Jim. "He'd lost too much blood before
Me Dain tried to patch him up."

"What savage fellows these dacoits are!" murmured Jack.

"A merciless crew," returned Dent. "Any of our poor fellows who
dropped into their hands in the Burmese war were cut up in most
frightful fashion, and in cold blood, too. But we made them pay for it
now and again, when we got in amongst them with the bayonets."

No more was said, and they tramped on in silence, with their ears laid
back to catch the faintest sounds of pursuit. But no sign of danger
was to be caught. Now and again they halted, and listened intently.
The jungle was perfectly silent save for its own noises, chief among
which was the sullen, deep roar of a tiger calling to its mate.

"That's a tiger calling," said Dent to Jack.

"I thought so," replied Jack; "it sounds like the Zoo, but how queer
to think that fellow is not behind bars, but roaming free through the
forest."

"Say," remarked Buck over his shoulder, "I hope that 'Tiger, tiger,
burning bright' isn't a man-eater. If he is, he'll have a soft snap
with us, marching along this narrow path through thick cover."

"By George, he's coming!" cried Jim, in a tone of sudden alarm. "Let's
bunch together, boys. If he doesn't get one of us, he may get a pony,
and that wouldn't