From that point the village could be seen across the fields. Yakob discovered that the chain of lights which he had observed earlier in the evening, had come down from the mountains, for it now seemed to be close to the village. Silence reigned in the sleeping world, every step could be heard. This silence filled Yakob's heart with a wild fear; he turned round with a feeling of helplessness and looked back at his cottage. Probably the fire was now going out; a red glow appeared and disappeared on the windows. Beyond the cross the road lay through low-lying ground, and was crossed by another road which led abruptly downwards into fields. Yakob hesitated. 'Come on, old man, come on,' they called to him, and walked on without waiting for his answer. The Cossacks dug their heels into the rugged ice of the road, and tumbled about in all directions. They had left their horses at the cross-roads. Each one kept a close hold on his gun, so that there should be no noise. They were whispering to each other; it sounded as if a congregation were murmuring their prayers. Yakob led them, and mentally he held fast to every bush, every lump of ice, saying to himself at every step that now he was going to leave them, they could not miss the road now. But he was afraid. They no longer whispered, they had become taciturn as they pushed onwards, stumbling, breathing hard. 'As far as Gregor's cottage, and then no more!' The effect of the drink was passing off. He rubbed his eyes, drew his rags across his chest. 'What was he doing, leading these people about on this night?' He suddenly stopped where the field-road crossed theirs; the soldiers in front and behind threw themselves down. It was as if the ground had swallowed them. A black horse was standing in the middle of the road, with extended nostrils. Its black mane, covered with hoar-frost, was tossed about its head; the saddle-bags, which were fur-lined, swung in the breeze; large dark drops were falling from its leg to the ground. 'Damn it!' cursed the captain. The horse looked meekly at them, and stretched its head forward submissively. Yakob was sorry for the creature; perhaps one could do something for it. He stood still beside it, and again pointed out the road. 'I have done enough, I shan't go any further!' He scratched his head and smiled, thinking that this was a good opportunity for escape. 'Come on,' hissed the captain so venomously in his ear that he marched forward without delay; they followed. A dull fear mixed with resentment gripped him with terrible force. He now ran at the head like a sheep worried by watch-dogs. They stopped in front of the cottage, silent, breathless, expectant. Yakob looked at his companions with boundless astonishment. Their faces under their fur-caps had a tense, cruel look, their brows were wrinkled, their eyes glittered. From all sides other Cossacks were advancing.