on a rock with his back towards the
sleepers. The first glance aroused Jack's suspicions. The Burman's
head was sunk between his shoulders. Next moment suspicion became
certainty. A gentle snore reached Jack's ears, and he knew that Me
Dain was sleeping at his post.

Up sprang Jack at once, and crossed to the sleeping man. He was about
to shake the drowsy watchman by the shoulder, when he paused and
looked intently at the slope below. What were those creeping figures
among the rocks down there? A second later he knew them, and aroused
his sleeping companions by a low, fierce cry.

"Up, up! Buck! Jim! Get your rifles at once. The dacoits are on us!"

CHAPTER XVI.

THE BRIDGE AND THE FORD.

The two men were on their feet at once.

"Dacoits! Dacoits!" growled Jim, dashing the sleep from his eyes and
gripping his weapon. "How in thunder do they come on us so soon? Have
we overslept?"

"No," said Buck, glancing at his watch. "We're inside our time. They
must have picked up our trail quicker than we thought, and followed a
lot faster than we travelled with the ponies."

By this time Jack had taken cover behind a boulder, and was drawing a
bead on the first of the oncoming figures. Up the hill-side was
streaming a broken line of crouching little men in blue, following,
with the skill of born trackers, the signs of the fugitives' march.
Jack's finger pressed on the trigger, and the leader dropped. At once
the men in blue seemed to disappear as if the earth had swallowed
them. They vanished behind rock, or bush, or tuft of grass, and the
hill-side was empty save for the fallen figure. At this instant Buck
and Jim crept to Jack's shoulder.

"How do they come to be so near to us as that?" cried Buck in
surprise. "In two minutes again they'd have been in the camp slicing
us up as we lay."

"Me Dain was asleep," said Jack briefly. "I happened to wake up and
hear him snore. So I nipped up and took a look round and dropped my
eye on the dacoits making straight for us."

"Good for you, Jack," replied Buck. "That's saved all our lives, for a
certainty."

A groan of misery behind them drew their attention. They glanced over
their shoulders and saw Me Dain seated on his rock, a picture of
shame. He had been awakened by Jack's call and the crack of his rifle,
but sat still, unable to face the men whose lives he had risked by
giving way to his desire for more slumber.

"Me Dain, you fat, brown-faced villain of the