“Oh, but pray do something to make her well!” cried Jozia. “A cow worth over three hundred _zloty_[7] ... and just now with calf, besides! Do help us! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” ----- Footnote 7: _Zloty._ A Polish coin, formerly worth about seven cents. Ambrose produced a lancet, whetted it on his boot, looked at the edge against the sky, and then cut a blood-vessel in Red-and-White’s belly. But no spurt of blood followed; only a few drops, black and foam-flecked, oozed out slowly. All were standing about, their necks craned forward, breathless with attention. “Too late!” he said mournfully. “Yes, the poor thing is near its last gasp. It must be cattle plague or something of the sort. You should have sent for me as soon as there was anything the matter. Those women! Peevish things they are, fit only to weep! When anything’s to be done, they only fall a-bleating. A lot of ewes!” He spat contemptuously, looked once more at the cow’s eyes and tongue, wiped his gory hands on her sleek hide, and prepared to go. “I shall not ring for her funeral; your pots will clink instead.” “Here come Father and Antek!” exclaimed Yuzka, hastening to meet them as a rumbling sound came from the farther end of the pond and a long cart and horses appeared, looming dark against the red glow of dust blazing in the light of the setting sun. “Father, Father! Red-and-White is dying!” she called out. He was just turning the pond. Antek had got down behind; the pine they had on the cart was a long one, and had to be held up. “Don’t waste your breath talking nonsense,” he growled in reply, lashing the horses. “Ambrose has bled it—in vain. Melted wax down her throat—in vain, too. Salt—no use.... ’Tis the cattle-plague, no doubt. Vitek says the forester drove them out of the grove, and all at once Red-and-White lay down and started to moan; and so he brought her back here.” “Red-and-White, our best cow! You foul beasts! The devil take you for the care you took of her!” He threw the reins to his son and ran forward, whip in hand. The women drew away. Vitek, who had all the time been very calmly doing things about the house, ran off, faint with fear, into the garden. Even Hanka stood up on the threshold, bewildered and dismayed. Old Boryna looked long at the cow and then cried out: “Yes, she is gone, and because of them! The filthy sluts! Always ready to eat, but to watch—never! Such a splendid animal! One cannot stir from the house, but that some harm and evil must come of it.” Hanka murmured in excuse: “But I have been out potato-digging all afternoon.” He turned on her in a rage. “You! Do you ever see anything that goes wrong? Do you care one pin for the things that are mine? Such a cow as ’twould be hard to find—aye, even at a manor farm!”