It grew quiet.

The lanterns beyond the trees became motionless.

They awaited an outcry, a voice, some kind of noise--but it was just as quiet there as it was among them--and the yellow lanterns were motionless.
"Oh, my God!" some one cried hoarsely and wildly.

They looked about.
It was Tsiganok, writhing in agony at the thought of death.

"They are hanging!" They turned away from him, and again it became quiet.