a fresh formation, swung his contingent into line and
led them with a rush across the floor that swept the remaining mutineers
off their feet.

Three more went down with steel through them, and then the rest
surrendered, throwing down their arms, and begging mercy. Brown made a
bundle of their arms, stowed it in a corner and made the prisoners stand
together in a bunch, while he searched them thoroughly.

"If we can't get that trapdoor open now, with these to help us," he
remarked, panting and wiping the dotted blood off his sword on a Hindu
prisoner's trousers, "it'll be a heavier proposition than I think!"

"There's a trick to it," said Juggut Khan, panting too, for the battle
had been fierce and furious while it lasted. "The fakir knows the trick.
It is heavy, in any case. But, if we make him tell us, we can manage
it."

There followed delay while the fakir was induced to forego the pleasure
of a sulking fit. He seemed like a child, anxious to emphasize their
dependence on his knowledge, and needing to be recompelled to each new
thing they needed of him. He was perfectly content, though, to surrender
when he felt the weight of a cleaning-rod on his anatomy, or something
in the way of fire--a match or cigarette for instance--placed where he
would get the most sensation from it.

Then followed more delay, while they rigged a lever of sorts, and a rope
through an iron ring in the trap, and while Juggut Khan hunted for the
secret catch that the fakir swore was hidden underneath a smaller stone
that hinged in the middle of the floor. He found it at last, moved it
and came across to lend a hand with the lever and the rope.

The fakir sat still and smiled at them. His eyes gleamed more horridly
than ever, and his withered arm seemed more than ever to be calling down
dire vengeance on them.

"I believe that monster is up to tricks of some kind!" swore Brown.

"He can't do anything," said Juggut Khan. "If we were all to put our
weight against this, all together, we and the prisoners, sahib, we could
get it open in a second."

"All together, then!" said Brown. "Come on, there! Lend a hand!"

The prisoners and Brown's men and Juggut Khan and the Beluchi bent
their backs above the lever, or hauled taut on the rope, and the fakir
wriggled with some secret joke.

"At the word three!" said Brown. "Then all together!"

"One!"

"Two!"

The fakir writhed delightedly. He seemed more than ever like a wickedly
maliciou