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 after him in full cry. Still there was just a trifle of uncertainty about it, and that was the Pĕnglima's one chance of salvation.

The slightest hesitation now, the smallest of false steps, and neither the Pĕnglima nor any of those with him would ever see the dawn. He knew it well enough, and as he ordered those who had taken the oars to pull out boldly into the stream, he grasped the helm and steering straight up the middle of the river, against the tide, he gave orders that no man should speak, undertaking the whole responsibility himself.

It was still so dark that no one could see quite whence this boat came, or distinguish who was in it, but as it moved with plenty of noise and no attempt at concealment right towards the line of guard-boats, some one called out, "Who goes there?"

"It is I," replied the Pĕnglima, "I bring the Shabandar's orders to you to keep a good look-out, they are attacking the Pěnglima Prang, and as he can't hold out he will probably try to escape by the river. Be ready for him, I am going to warn the boats down stream," and turning round the craft disappeared towards the other line of river-sentinels.

No one of course suspected a ruse under such a