In two places only had the brigands, to break through the line of watch-fires which might have betrayed them, resolved to kill the sentinels.  Against one picket, Djemboulat proceeded himself, and he ordered another Bek to creep up the bank, pass round to the rear of the picket, count a hundred, and then to strike fire with a flint and steel several times.  It was said and done.  Just lifting his head above the edge of the bank, Djemboulat saw a Kazak slumbering with the match in his hand, and holding his horse by the bridle.  As soon as the clicking struck his ear, the sentinel started, and turned an anxious look on the river.  Fearing that the sentinel did not remark him, Djemboulat threw up his cap, and again crouched down behind the bank.  “Accursed duck!” said the Donetz; “for this night is a carnival.  They squatter away like the witches of Kieff.”  At this moment, the sparks appeared on the opposite side, and drew his attention:  “’Tis the wolves,” thought he:  “sometimes their eyes glitter brightly!” But the sparks reappearing, he was stupefied, remembering stories that the Tchetchenetzes sometimes use this kind of signal to regulate the movements of their march.  This moment of suspense and irresolution was the moment of his destruction; a dagger [23], directed by a strong arm, whistled through the air, and the Kazak, transfixed, fell without a groan to the earth.  His comrade was sabred in his sleep, and the pole with the tub was torn down, and was thrown into the river.  All then rapidly assembled at the given signal, and dashed in a moment on the village which they had determined to attack.  The blow was successfully, that is, quite unexpectedly, struck.  Such of the peasants as had time to arm, were killed after a desperate resistance:  the others hid themselves or fled.  Besides the plunder, a number of men and women was the reward of their boldness.  The Kabardinetzes broke into the houses, carrying off all that was most valuable, indeed every thing that came to hand:  but they did not set fire to the houses, nor did they tread down the corn, nor break the vines:  “Why touch the gift of God, and the labour of man?” said they; and this rule of a mountain robber, who shrinks at no crime, is a virtue which the most civilized nations might envy.  In an hour, all was over for the inhabitants, but not for the brigands.  The alarm spread along the line, and the mayaks soon began to glimmer through the fog like the stars of morning, while the call to arms resounded in every direction.  In this interval, a party of the more experienced among the brigands had gone round the troop of horses which was grazing far in the steppe.  The herdsman was seized, and with cries, and firing their guns, they charged at the horses from the land side.  The animals started, threw mane and tail into the air, and dashed headlong on the track of a Tcherkess mounted on a superb steed, who had remained on the bank of the river to guide the frightened herd.  Like a