The invaders having at length taken possession of both banks of the Koissu, and easily repulsed an attack of six thousand mountaineers led on by Achwerdu Mohamet, who had recently deserted from the Russian service, set themselves down on the twelfth of June before Akhulgo, closely investing it. General Grabbe hoped at first to induce the enemy to surrender by showering them with bombs, balls, and rockets; but while he succeeded in destroying many of the fortifications and stone houses, the subterranean defences remained undamaged. From these and the works on the terraces the besieged answered with their rifles, sparing indeed of their ammunition, but taking an unerring, deadly aim. Nowhere could the Russians show a head above their defences without imminent risk of losing it. Nor was their entire force scarcely adequate to man the posts; so that frequently the same troops who had worked all day in the trenches were obliged to stand guard during a portion of the night. Still they worked with hearty good-will, gradually carrying forward their batteries, cutting their way through the soft, porous rock, and sheltering themselves from the rifle-balls of the enemy by means of gabions and stone walls. During the early part of the siege the Russian camp was abundantly supplied with provisions; the Koissu gave them abundance of good water; the neighboring forests furnished wood for cooking the evening's soup; their fragrant boughs made easy beds at night; while numerous watch fires warmed the feet of the sleeping soldiers as they lay stretched beneath the stars. Even a certain degree of hilarity prevailed in the camp, so different from the prison of the krepost, where the daily drill, the appointed roll of the drum, and the enforced dance and song but poorly relieved the still, dull monotony. But the mirth was often ill-timed; for when refreshed by the evening's pottage and his cup of _wodka_, the Cossack sat carolling a ditty or meditating on the charms of the fair one left behind on the Don, suddenly a ball from the rifle of some watchful mountaineer would send him tumbling headlong into the Koissu. Or when the grey-coated grenadiers in the intervals between the roar of the artillery and the tumult of the trumpets, feeling their hearts stirred by a sudden enthusiasm, would break out into chanting, the half devotional, half martial air would often prove a dirge for some poor comrade struck down with the chorus on his lips by the ball of an invisible enemy.