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 bumble bees. The wounded Tukholians screamed in pain and dispersed. The Mongols moved forward.

“Don’t let them assemble again!” shouted Burunda. “Don’t let them hurl any more stones down upon us! We can strengthen our position here.”

He divided the group into two companies, one to keep on shooting at the enemy’s post and the other to pile up the stones for protection against the rising waters. Tuhar Wolf and Maxim, whom Burunda constantly kept with him also helped with the work by carrying stones and heaping them up. But this work was getting more difficult to accomplish as time went on. The water had risen to their waists. There began to be a shortage of stones and the piles had not yet reached the surface. Burunda directed the archers who had already succeeded in wounding ten Tukholians. They were dying from the tragic effects of the snake poison, which had gotten into their blood, and for which all of Zakhar Berkut’s healing skill could do nothing.

“Give up that station, children!” advised Zakhar. “Let them stand in front of that precipice. They cannot save themselves that way, especially with the water beneath them!”

The Tukholians gave up their post. The Mongols waded around in the water happily adding more stones to the piles. Finally there were no more stones to be found.

“It won’t do us much good, boys, just to heap up the stones,” Burunda said to his soldiers. “The archers, stand on top of the piles and keep on shooting with your bows. The rest come with me! We must hold this post and climb up the wall of rock, even if the heavens should come tumbling down upon us. You slaves, come with me also and lead the way!”

“Behadir,” said Maxim through Tuhar Wolf acting as interpreter, “it’s useless for us to try struggling up that way. There’s no path there to the top.”

“There must be one!” Burunda insisted and jumped into