'Where is he?'
'In the sledge outside.'
Gryb ran off at a heavy trot. Blows and cries were heard, then the old man reappeared, dragging his son by the hair. The strong young fellow was crying like a child. He looked dishevelled and his clothes were torn; a bloodstained cloth was tied round his hand.
'Did you steal the Soltys' horses?' shouted his father.
'How should I not have stolen them? I did steal them!'
'Not quite,' said Grochowski, 'but he did steal Slimak's.'
'What?' cried Gryb, and began to lay on to his son again.
'I did, father. Leave off!' wailed Jasiek.
'My God, how did this come about?' asked the old man.
'That's simple enough,' sneered Grochowski, 'he found others as bad as himself, and they robbed the whole neighbourhood, till I winged him.'