The three men listened, and distinctly heard the smothered footfall of horses in the snow.
"They are coming!" said Simon.
The Bohemian crouched against the rock, and hiding his face, shivered with fear.
Simon entered the gorge, and carrying his fingers to his lips made a noise that sounded like the hoarse caw of a crow. Other signals answered this, showing that all were ready.
Simon stood listening. The sounds came nearer and nearer, and, presently, some fifty yards away, appeared the Cossacks. They came slowly, uneasy at the profound silence. Simon aimed at the leader, fired and the Cossack fell. Frightful yells filled the air, but they continued to advance.
Then from every rock and tree came a rain of balls, the echoes from the granite walls making the invaders suppose that the opposing force was a hundred times what it really was.
The Cossacks were ready enough to return the fire, but they saw no enemy; not a human being. Still they moved on, closing up their ranks, and their horses trampling on the dead bodies of their comrades. They reached the gorge. The peasants, sure of their prey, now forgot all prudence, and showed themselves. The Cossacks, with cries of rage, answered their fusillade. The scene was an absolute butchery.
Suddenly, a man in the uniform of the Helmans waved his sword, and the Cossacks pulled up their horses and turned them with inconceivable dexterity. This movement showed the length of their column. The gipsy was right, there were hundreds.
Simon, at this moment, uttered the exclamation: