Gosławski's right hand had been caught between the cogwheels; in the twinkling of an eye he was hung up as though welded to the machinery, which had got hold first of the fingers, then of the hand, then of the bone up to the elbow: the blood gushed out. The wretched man saw what had happened and tore himself away; the crushed and broken bones and torn muscles were not able to bear the load, they broke, and Gosławski fell heavily to the floor.
All this happened within a few seconds.
"Stop the engine!" shouted Gosławski's neighbour.
The engine was stopped, and all the men left their work and came running up to the wounded man. Someone poured a can of water over him; one young man had a fit when he saw the blood; others ran out of the workshop without knowing why.
"Fetch the doctor!" Gosławski cried in a changed voice.
"A horse ... hurry up! ... run to the town!" shouted the workmen, as if they were out of their senses.
"Oh, the blood, the blood!" groaned the wounded man.
The bystanders did not know what he meant.
"For God's sake, stop the blood! Tie up my arm!"
Nobody moved; they did not know how to stop the blood, and were paralyzed with fright.