'Then why don't you turn him upside down? Maciek, take him by the feet…oh, you clumsy fellows!'
The labourer did not stir. She seized the boy herself by the legs.
Stasiek struck the ground heavily with his hands; a little blood ran from his nose.
Maciek took the child from her and carried him into the cottage, where he laid him down on the bench. They all followed him except Magda, who ran aimlessly round the yard and then, with outstretched arms, on to the highroad, crying: 'Help…help, if you believe in God!' She returned to the cottage, but dared not go in, crouched on the threshold with her head on her knees, groaning: 'Help…if you believe in God.'
Slimak dashed into the alcove, put on his sukmana and ran out, he did not know whither; he felt he must run somewhere.
A voice seemed to cry to him: 'Father…father…if you had put up a fence, your child would not have been drowned!'
And the man answered: 'It is not my fault; the Germans bewitched him with their singing.'
A cart was heard rattling on the highroad and stopped in front of the cottage. The schoolmaster got out, bareheaded and with his rod in his hand. 'How is the boy?' he called out, but did not wait for an answer and limped into the cottage.
Stasiek was lying on the bench, his mother was supporting his head on her knees and whispering to herself: 'He's coming to, he's a little warmer.'
The schoolmaster nudged Maciek: 'How is he?'