answered by yet other voices.

'Time to wake them,' thought Lukashka, who had finished his ramrod
and felt his eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he
managed to make out which pair of legs belonged to whom, when it
suddenly seemed to him that he heard something splash on the other
side of the Terek. He turned again towards the horizon beyond the
hills, where day was breaking under the upturned crescent, glanced
at the outline of the opposite bank, at the Terek, and at the now
distinctly visible driftwood upon it. For one instant it seemed to
him that he was moving and that the Terek with the drifting wood
remained stationary. Again he peered out. One large black log with
a branch particularly attracted his attention. The tree was
floating in a strange way right down the middle of the stream,
neither rocking nor whirling. It even appeared not to be floating
altogether with the current, but to be crossing it in the
direction of the shallows. Lukashka stretching out his neck
watched it intently. The tree floated to the shallows, stopped,
and shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukashka thought he saw an arm
stretched out from beneath the tree. 'Supposing I killed an abrek
all by myself!' he thought, and seized his gun with a swift,
unhurried movement, putting up his gun-rest, placing the gun upon
it, and holding it noiselessly in position. Cocking the trigger,
with bated breath he took aim, still peering out intently. 'I
won't wake them,' he thought. But his heart began beating so fast
that he remained motionless, listening. Suddenly the trunk gave a
plunge and again began to float across the stream towards our
bank. 'Only not to miss ...' thought he, and now by the faint
light of the moon he caught a glimpse of a Tartar's head in front
of the floating wood. He aimed straight at the head which appeared