But no one heeded him.
Old Portnoff found a can, and filling it at the stream, brought it to the group on the slope.

In a short time they began to revive, and before long were able to stand.

Meantime, the wretched Rosenblatt was piteously crying for water.
"Oh, give him some water," said Kalman to Brown, who was anxiously taking his pulse.
Brown took the can over, gave the unhappy wretch a drink, pouring the rest over his burned and mangled limbs.

The explosion had shattered the lower part and one side of Rosenblatt's body, leaving untouched his face and his right arm.
The Sergeant took charge of the situation.
"You I arrest," he said, taking old Kalmar by the shoulder.
"Very well; it matters not," said the old man, holding up his hands for the handcuffs.
"Can anything be done for this man ?" asked the Sergeant, pointing to Rosenblatt.
"Nothing.

He can only live a few minutes." Rosenblatt looked up and beckoned the Sergeant toward him.
"I would speak with you," he said faintly.
The Sergeant approached, bringing Kalmar along with him.
"You need not fear, I shall not try to escape," said Kalmar.
"I give you my honour." "Very well," said the Sergeant, turning from him to Rosenblatt.
"What do you wish ?" "Come nearer," said the dying man.
The Sergeant kneeled down and leaned over him to listen.