The rain continued to fall. When Slimak looked out later on, the stable door was shut, and he fancied he could hear Maciek snoring.
He returned into the room.
'Are they all right in there?' asked his wife.
'They are asleep,' he replied, and bolted the door.
The cocks had crowed midnight, the dog had barked his answer and squeezed under the cart for shelter, everybody was asleep. Then the stable door creaked, and a shadow stole out, moved along the walls and disappeared into the cowshed. It was Maciek. He drew the whimpering child from under his sukmana and put its mouth to the cow's udder.
'Suck, little one,' he whispered, 'suck the cow, because your mother has left you.'
A few moments later smacking sounds were heard.
And the rain continued to drip…drip…drip, monotonously.
CHAPTER VI
The announcement that the railway was to be built in the spring caused a great stir in the village. The strangers who went about buying land from the peasants were the sole topic of conversation at the spinning-wheels on winter evenings. One poor peasant had sold his barren gravel hill, and had been able to purchase ten acres of the best land with the proceeds.