"My father! Don't commit this crime! For my sake, for Christ's dear sake!" He rushed across the ravine and up the other slope.

His father ran to meet him and grappled with him.

Upon the slope they struggled, Kalman fighting fiercely to free himself from those encircling arms, while like a fiery serpent the flame crept slowly toward the cabin.
With a heavy iron poker which he found in the cabin, Rosenblatt had battered off the sash and the frame of the window, enlarging the hole till he could get his head and one arm free; but there he stuck fast, watching the creeping flames, shrieking prayers, entreaties, curses, while down upon the slope swayed the two men in deadly struggle.
"Let me go! Let me go, my father!" entreated Kalman, tearing at his father's arms.

"How can I strike you!" "Never, boy.

Rather would I die!" cried the old man, his arms wreathed about his son's neck.
At length, with his hand raised high above his head, Kalman cried, "Now God pardon me this!" and striking his father a heavy blow, he flung him off and leaped free.