Suddenly one of the two men--a genuine Kirgiz--halted, his finger on his lip. The other two halted also, and crouched where they stood. They had heard a noise--very, very slight. It sounded like the striking of a match. Streloff felt his heart in his mouth. A moment later, and the unmistakable flicker of a light gleamed among the trees some distance ahead. It died down. The very, very faint sound of a voice, a whisper, broke the stillness. Someone was there. They held their breath, listening intently. They looked from one to the other blankly. What was to be done? Someone was there, and meant to stay there, for no movement was perceptible. Streloff considered. If there were but a solitary wayfarer it was awkward. They did not want to murder anybody unnecessarily; but this was not a solitary wayfarer, since they had heard someone speak. One does not talk to oneself--as a rule. The one thing supremely important to the young spy was that he should not be seen. And he doubted whether it were now possible even to retreat, without making some slight noise to put those mysterious others upon the alert. They had almost walked into an ambush. His brain ached with the wonder. Who could they possibly be? What conceivable object, save to stop Felix Vanston's tarantasse, could lead men to hide in the wood at that hour? And he could not think of any others besides himself who would be likely to wish to do that. He was horribly agitated. For these men, no doubt, were as desirous as himself of being unobserved. They made no noise. In the intense silence of the forest he could not hear a sound. And he dared not make one. Nothing was less desired by this young man than any kind of a fight. He wanted a murder, that was all. One accomplice to hold the horse, one to hold the coachman--and himself to knife Felix, who would almost certainly be unarmed. This sudden, wholly unexpected check upset his nerves. His subordinates looked to him for orders. He had none to give. But a few minutes' reflection steadied his nerves. They must somehow retreat, unobserved. They must cross the road lower down, and re-enter the wood on the other side of the road. Then they must rapidly work their way along, to a point between the village and the spot where the ambush lay, and there await the coming of their victim. With inconceivable precaution they crept away. Among pine trees there is little undergrowth, few dead twigs to crack beneath the foot. Nevertheless, in that silence, for three men to retreat unheard was something of a feat; and Streloff, when after a quarter of an hour that seemed an eternity they stood out of sight and earshot, at the edge of the road, felt that he was proving himself a born spy.