"A rest before the assault," said Palma quietly, "and the last smoke for some of them if they try that corner. Keep a sharp eye on them, Loris. It will be dark in ten minutes, then they'll make a move. The moment they do so, come back here both of you," and young Blok slipped away to join his friend. The shadows deepened in the well of the cleft till the barricade was only a darker shadow among them. Blok's voice whispered suddenly alongside Palma and Pavlof. "They are withdrawing down the valley." "Out of earshot for instructions. They'll come back presently. Well, they've had their warning. Fetch Alex, Loris. They will come with a rush, poor devils! And their shooting will be wild and free, and we can't afford any useless risks," and Bloke stole away again into the deeper shadow. Such waiting tries the temper of a man's courage as no actual fighting can, and if his mettle lack steel it saps and runs, and leaves him limp for the fray. But to Hope, sitting solitary on a rock behind the next turn of the road, this anxious waiting was more terrible still. She wove her fingers tight, and bowed her head, and prayed numbly. Her life, and the lives of the men down the road, were at stake. Liberty at such a price was dearly purchased. Suppose Paul should be killed, what would life be worth to her? Suppose they were all killed, what would become of her?--left alone in the wilderness with these rough boors, who sat smoking impassively and thought more--if they thought at all--of the safety of their horses than of the lives in the balance down yonder. She jumped up, and went to the bend of the road, and peered down it into the darkness. But there was not a sound, and her anxiety deepened every instant. She took a step or two round the corner, stopped, and stood listening. It was no good going. Her presence would only hamper them, and their hands were overfull as it was. Then a sudden vicious spurt of flame ripped out of the ground in the nearer darkness in front. In a moment the angle of the cleft blazed with intermittent flashes and echoed with shots and shouts. Something sang past her in the darkness, and she ran back and dropped on her rock, and held her hands over her ears. And alongside her the drivers grunted guttural ejaculations over their pipes, and the horses stamped restlessly at the turmoil. Loris Blok had withdrawn along the road with the rest after recalling Rimof. But he was one of those restless souls who find it impossible to wait doing nothing, and he was aching for a fight. He had in his time suffered at the hands of the authorities, both as student and prisoner. He had seen his comrades beaten down and ridden over in the streets of Moscow. He had seen them shot down in the open and done to death in the prisons, and he hated the doers of these things, head and hand, from the highest to the lowest, with a very bitter hatred.