Wargrave and Muriel opened on the pursuers with their automatic weapons and checked them.  Tashi was about a hundred yards from shelter when a shot struck him.  He stumbled and fell, while a howl of delight rose from his foes.  As he tried to struggle up bullets kicked up the dust round him and several arrows dropped near.

“Muriel, loose off as many cartridges as you can to cover me,” said Wargrave, laying his pistol beside her.

Before the girl realised his meaning he had sprung out from the rocks and was running towards Tashi.  For a moment the pursuers were puzzled by his action and then fired their rifles and matchlocks and shot arrows at him.  But unscathed he reached the wounded man who had been so faithful a comrade to him.  Raising him on his back he staggered towards the rocks, while Muriel pumped lead at the enemy and succeeded in keeping down their fire somewhat.  As Wargrave laid the ex-lama on the ground in shelter Tashi seized his hand and touched it with his lips and forehead in silent gratitude.  Frank hurriedly examined and bandaged the wound made by a large-calibre bullet, which had passed through the leg below the knee, lacerating the muscles but not injuring the bone.  Then he took up his post again, while Tashi dragged himself up behind a rock and opened fire on their foes.

These were for the most part Bhutanese, but there were several Chinese among them.

“Look!  Look, Frank!  There’s the Amban,” cried Muriel excitedly, pointing to a man who rode into sight along the pass on a white mule.

She fired at him.  The bullet missed him but apparently went unpleasantly close, for Yuan Shi Hung galloped back into shelter behind a projecting buttress of the cliffs.

The attackers numbered sixty or eighty.  They were apparently staggered by the rapid fire poured into them, which killed or wounded several of them.  Some tried to find shelter by huddling against the side of the pass and others flung themselves on the ground behind boulders; but the leaders urged them on.

There could be little doubt as to the issue of the fight.  The bullets from the Chinamen’s rifles and the Bhutanese matchlocks spattered the rocks or the face of the cliff; but the archers began to shoot almost vertically into the air from their strong bamboo bows, and several iron-tipped, four-feathered arrows dropped behind the cover, one missing Wargrave by a hand’s breadth.

Fearing for Muriel he tried to shield her with his body.

“What’s the use, dearest?” she said.  “If you are killed I don’t want to live.  Indeed, we must both die now.  I shall not be taken alive.  Kiss me and tell me once more that you love me.”

He held her to his heart in a passionate embrace and kissed her fondly.

“They are coming now, sahib,” said Tashi.  “And I have only a few cartridges left.”

The lovers paid no heed.

“Goodbye, my dear, dear love,” whispered Muriel, “I’m happier dying with you than living without you.”