"Now it is my turn," said Stanislav. "But you are panting, perhaps you would rest; meanwhile I will put their cloaks on my comrades, lest this damp cold may chill them ere help comes."
"Help is near," said Tachevski. "Over there in the mist is a sleigh sent by Father Voynovski, and he himself is at my house. Permit me. I will go for the sleigh in which those gentlemen will feel easier than here on this snow field."
And he started while Stanislav went to cover the Bukoyemskis who were sitting arm to arm in the snow, except Yan, the least wounded. Yan on his knees was in front of Mateush, holding up his own right hand lest blood might flow from the finger stump too freely; in his left he held snow with which he was washing the face of his brother.
"How are ye?" asked Stanislav.
"Ah, he has bitten us, the son of a such a one!" said Lukash, and he spat blood abundantly; "but we will avenge ourselves."
"I cannot move my arm at all, for he cut the bone," added Marek. "Eh, the dog! Eh!"
"And Mateush is cut over the brows!" called out Yan; "the wound should be covered with bread and spider-web but I will staunch the blood with snow for the present."
"If my eyes were not filled with blood," said Mateush, "I would--"
But he could not finish since blood loss had weakened him, and he was interrupted by Lukash who had been borne away suddenly by anger.
"But he is cunning, the dog blood! He stings like a gnat, though he looks like a maiden."