Slowly they rode ahead as if waiting for the moment of precipitate attack by the villagers. But there was no attack. The village lay as if in slumber. With savage cries the first ranks of Mongols broke into the houses, as it was their custom, with intent to kill and plunder, but there was no one to murder and the houses were all empty. With shouts of rising fury the Mongols tore from house to house, breaking in the doors, tearing down fences, gates, bursting barrels, crushing reed baskets and wrecking the clay ovens. But all their wrath availed them nothing, no one showed himself in the village.
“The cursed dogs!” said Burunda to Tuhar Wolf. “They scented us and have hidden themselves. Until we meet up with them we cannot make our camp here safely overnight. Lead us to the opening of this hole! We must first make sure of our exit!”
“Our exit is assured,” Tuhar Wolf calmed him albeit he was himself puzzled as to why the Tukholians had vacated the village. And though he tried to soothe the behadir, he asked him to order the army to stop searching for loot and hurry to the outlet. Unwillingly the vanguard of the Mongol Horde marched forward while those in the rear were still pressing through the narrows, flooding the basin ever more deeply.
Now the first series of soldiers came out of the village and hastened to the corridor carved out of the rock. Within the valley, near the entrance to the passage, it was pitch dark. The unwary Mongols marched right up to it only to be met by an avalanche of rocks and stones, wounding and killing them.
The screams and groans of the wounded aggressors echoed to the welkin. The swift-flying birds crowed above their prey. The Mongols began to retreat and to disperse when Burunda and Tuhar Wolf, with unsheated swords, halted them.
“Which way, fools?” roared Burunda angrily. “There’s the opening to the corridor before you, follow after me!” And driving before him a whole troop of soldiers, he rushed them
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