“Hi! Cos--”
He had not finished when Zagloba, with the speed of lightning, threw Bogun’s coat over his head, and in a moment had wound it completely around him and thrown him on his back.
“Don’t cry, for it hurts you,” said he quietly, panting heavily. “Your head might go to aching to-morrow; therefore as a good friend I am careful of you. In this fashion you will be warm and sleep comfortably, not scream your throat out. Lest you tear your clothes, I will bind your hands; and all this through friendship, that you may remember me with gratitude.”
With the belt on the Cossack he bound his hands; then with his own belt he tied his feet. Bogun felt nothing now; he had fainted.
“A sick man should lie quietly,” said Zagloba, “so that humor may not fly to his head; from this comes delirium.
