-tak!

Prokop meantime sat in the prow as though he were at home. He spit into
his hands, gave a stroke with the oar to the left, a stroke to the
right, and the boat glided over the shining water, and Fishel's head
spun round as he sat. As he sat? No, he hung floating, suspended in the
air! One false movement, and that which held him would give way; one
lean to the side, and he would be in the water and done with! At this
thought, the words came into his mind, "And they sank like lead in the
mighty waters," and his hair stood on end at the idea of such a death.
How? Not even to be buried with the dead of Israel? And he bethought
himself to make a vow to--to do what? To give money in charity? He had
none to give--he was a very, very poor man! So he vowed that if God
would bring him home in safety, he would sit up whole nights and study,
go through the whole of the Talmud in one year, God willing, with God's
help.

Fishel would dearly have liked to know if it were much further to the
other side, and found himself seated, as though on purpose, with his
face to Prokop and his back to Chaschtschevate. And he dared not open
his mouth to ask. It seemed to him that his very voice would cause the
boat to rock, and one rock--good-by, Fishel! But Prokop opened his mouth
of his own accord, and began to speak. He said there was nothing worse
when you were on the water than a thaw. It made it impossible, he said,
to row straight ahead; one had to adapt one's course to the ice, to row
round and round and backwards.

"There's a bit of ice making straight for us now."

Thus Prokop, and he pulled back and let pass a regular ice-floe, which
swam by with a singular rocking motion and a sound that Fishel had never
seen or heard before. And then he began to understand what a wild
adventure this journey was, and he would have given goodness knows what
to be safe on shore, even on the one they had left.

"O, you see that?" asked Prokop, and pointed upstream.

Fishel raised his eyes slowly, was afraid of moving much, and looked and
looked, and saw nothing but water, water, and water.

"There's a big one coming down on us now, we must make a dash for it,
for it's too late to row back."

So said Prokop, and rowed away with both hands, and the boat glided and
slid like a fish through the water, and Fishel felt cold in every limb.
He would have liked to question, but was afraid of interfering. However,
again Prokop spoke of himself.

"If