They have got us trapped;" and Durand's hands shook as he restlessly fingered a revolver.

The big Servian crouched on his knees near by, his finger on the trigger of his rifle.

All three were hatless and unkempt.

The wound in Zmai's scalp had broken out afresh, and he had twisted a colored handkerchief about it to stay the bleeding.

A hundred yards away the waterfall splashed down the defile and its faint murmur reached them.