“She is at bay; she may have fired it at herself, and yet I do not think she would do that until some of the bullets had reached the wretches who have captured her.  I am following the wrong path, for this one leads me away from her.”

Without an instant’s hesitation he turned and began his return on a loping trot.  He was incensed with himself because of his mistake, and yet there was no reasonable cause for such feeling, but grief is as thoughtless as love, and he was stirred to the very depth of his soul by both.  Reaching the last forking, he did not pause, but set out over the main trail.

In front of him towered a mass of rocks higher than any he had yet seen.  The path wound about these, but instead of following it, he climbed to the highest part.

“I may gain sight of something from up there,” was his thought as he pushed on, “that will be of some help.”

And he did see something from the crest which fairly took away his breath.

CHAPTER XVII.

Almos.

Mary Marlowe was an obedient daughter, and when her father checked her move to go to the aid of the imperilled ones on the boat, and peremptorily ordered her to wait where she was, she obeyed without protest.  She would have been glad to bear them company, but knew she would be more of a hindrance than a help.

It was less than five minutes after the disappearance of her father and betrothed when she was frightened by hearing a slight sound directly behind her in the path.  Her thought naturally was that some wild animal was stealing upon her, but the first glance told a more dreadful story.  Five men, who, from their ragged, scant attire, their dark complexion and wild expression of features, she knew to belong to the terrible bandits called Ghoojurs, had come upon her unnoticed, and pausing within a half dozen paces, were looking fixedly at her.

The sight was so startling that the young woman gasped and recoiled.  She would have fled after her friends had not the leader made a gesture, accompanied by the command: 

“Stay where you are or you shall be killed!  I know you as the daughter of the doctor, and we seek you and him.”

Each of the Ghoojurs carried a long, muzzle-loading gun, and every one had a yataghan thrust into a girdle around his waist, the weapon being a foot or more in length, and with a point of needle-like fineness.  The leader spoke in Hindustani, which was as familiar to the young woman as her own tongue.

The young woman possessed quick wit.  She could not doubt that the five, including Almos and Mustad, were now her deadly enemies.  Whether they had taken part in the massacre of those left on the boat could not be conjectured, but the probabilities were the other way, since it would have been well-nigh impossible for them to reach their present position from the river without colliding with Dr. Marlowe and Jack Everson.