Immediately after the storm the soldiers, ready to drop from weariness, were led by the tireless Yeremi in a sally, which ended in a new defeat for the enemy. Quiet then soothed the tabor and the camp.
The night was warm but cloudy. Four black forms pushed themselves quietly and carefully to the eastern edge of the ramparts. They were Pan Longin, Zagloba, Skshetuski, and Volodyovski.
"Guard your pistols well, to keep the powder dry," whispered Pan Yan. "Two battalions will be ready all night. If you fire, we will spring to the rescue."
"Nothing to be seen, even if you strain your eyes out!" whispered Zagloba.
"That is better," answered Pan Longin.
"Be quiet!" interrupted Volodyovski, "I hear something."
"That is only the groan of a dying man,--nothing!"
"If you can only reach the oak grove."
"Oh, my God! my God!" sighed Zagloba, trembling as if in a fever.
"In three hours it will be daylight."