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“, what do you think will happen to us?” Burunda suddenly asked.

“We’ll all be drowned,” replied Tuhar Wolf quietly.

“That’s what I thought,” affirmed Burunda. “But what infuriates me most of all is that we’ll all die without a struggle, without glory, like cats thrown into a pool.”

The boyar made no answer to this. New developments turned everyone’s attention upon himself. Evidently the Tukholians were not content to wait until the water had risen high enough to drown the rest of the miserable Mongols; they were in a hurry to finish off the enemy.

In the forest above the catapulting cataract their youths were chopping down thick fir trees, sharpening them at both ends like stakes and tying stone weights to them so they would float beneath the surface of the water without being detected. When swiftly flowing currents from the catapulting waterfall appeared in the center of the lake, they let the fir timbers float down stream straight towards the Mongolian posts. The very first of these dealt a forceful blow with its sharp point to one of the heaps of stones upon which the Mongols stood. The stones crashed beneath the water and, pressed down from above by Mongolian feet, the pile loosened and gave way. With loud oaths the Mongols fell into the water. Three of them landed on top of the fir timber and grasped hold of it. The current swung them with the fir log down stream into the depths until it chanced upon a whirlpool which twirled