He did not cover the old man or the
fat woman with his rifle. That was not his custom. Some fool of the _Durro
Muts_, being hungry, raised his voice to dispute the order to flee, and
before we were in our saddles many shots came from the roof--from rifles
thrust through the thatch. Upon this we rode across the valley of stones,
and men fired at us from the nullah behind the house, and from the hill
behind the nullah, as well as from the roof of the house--so many shots
that it sounded like a drumming in the hills. Then Sikandar Khan, riding
low, said, "This play is not for us alone, but for the rest of the _Durro
Muts_," and I said, "Be quiet. Keep place!" for his place was behind me,
and I rode behind Kurban Sahib. But these new bullets will pass through
five men arow! We were not hit--not one of us--and we reached the hill of
rocks and scattered among the stones, and Kurban Sahib turned in his
saddle and said, "Look at the old man!" He stood in the verandah firing
swiftly with a gun, the woman beside him and the idiot also--both with
guns. Kurban Sahib laughed, and I caught him by the wrist, but--his fate
was written at that hour. The bullet passed under my arm-pit and struck
him in the liver, and I pulled him backward between two great rocks atilt
--Kurban Sahib, my Kurban Sahib! From the nullah behind the house and from
the hills came our Boer-log in number more than a hundred, and Sikandar
Khan said, "_Now_ we see the meaning of last night's signal.
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