One of these men sped across the bridge and took his stand at the
further end, while the other two posted themselves in their path at the
entrance to it.
The Mungana slacked his speed and said one word--"Finished!" and Jeekie
also hesitated, then turned and pointed behind them.
Alan looked back and flitting in and out between the cedar trees, saw
the white robes of the priests of Bonsa. Then despair seized them all,
and they rushed at the bridge. Jeekie reached it first and dodging
beneath the spears of the two guards, plunged his knife into the breast
of one of them, and butted the other with his great head, so that he
fell over the side of the bridge on to the rocks below.
"Cut, Major, cut!" he said to Alan, who pushed past him. "All right
now."
They were on the narrow swaying bridge--it was but a single plank--Alan
first, then the Mungana, then Jeekie. When they were half way across
Alan looked before him and saw a sight he could never forget.
The third guard at the further side was sawing through one of the fibre
ropes with his spear. There they were on the middle of the bridge with
the torrent raving fifty feet beneath them, and the man had nearly
severed the rope! To get over before it parted was impossible; behind
were the priests; beneath the roaring river.
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