is very feet was the bank, and at its base
the rushing torrent. A little farther on was the moving mass of glassy
brown water which eddied rhythmically along the bank and round the
shallows. Farther still, water, banks, and cloud all merged together in
impenetrable gloom. Along the surface of the water floated black
shadows, in which the experienced eyes of the Cossack detected trees
carried down by the current. Only very rarely sheet-lightning, mirrored
in the water as in a black glass, disclosed the sloping bank opposite.
The rhythmic sounds of night--the rustling of the reeds, the snoring of
the Cossacks, the hum of mosquitoes, and the rushing water, were every
now and then broken by a shot fired in the distance, or by the gurgling
of water when a piece of bank slipped down, the splash of a big fish,
or the crashing of an animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in
the wood. Once an owl flew past along the Terek, flapping one wing
against the other rhythmically at every second beat. Just above the
Cossack's head it turned towards the wood and then, striking its wings
no longer after every other flap but at every flap, it flew to an old
plane tree where it rustled about for a long time before settling down
among the branches. At every one of these unexpected sounds the
watching Cossack listened intently, straining his hearing, and screwing
up his eyes while he deliberately felt for his musket.

The greater part of the night was past. The black cloud that had moved
westward revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn edge, and
the golden upturned crescent of the moon shone above the mountains with
a reddish light. The cold began to be penetrating. Nazarka awoke, spoke
a little, and fell asleep again. Lukashka feeling bored got up, drew
the knife from his dagger-handle and began to fashion his stick into a
ramrod. His head was full of the Chechens who lived over there in the
mountains, and of how their brave lads came across and were not afraid
of the Cossacks, and might even now be crossing the river at some other
spot. He thrust himself out of his hiding-place and looked along the
river but could see nothing. And as he continued looking out at
intervals upon the river and at the opposite bank, now dimly
distinguishable from the water in the faint moonlight, he no longer
thought about the Chechens but only of when it would be time to wake
his comrades, and of going home to the village. In the village he
imag