All week long Pan Wrubel was friendly. He slapped Jurek on the back and was kind to all of his animals, not just the horses. But on Sundays, when he came home drunk, he was a terror. Usually, he spent Saturday nights drinking with his friends until dawn. Everyone knew he was home because of the shouts, screams, and sounds of dishes breaking and doors banging. If his eldest son Viktor was there, he defended his mother. Pan Wrubel would have to leave the house and take out his anger on the animals, kicking the cows and chasing the pigs around their sty. If he caught Franek or Jurek, he slapped their faces, pulled their ears, and marched them in front of him with kicks in the rear. Monday mornings found him penitent and unshaven. Still dressed in his creased weekend clothes, he would look for Jurek and ask, "Say, how many times did I hit you yesterday?"
Jurek would present him with the bill and receive a one zloty coin for every time. It was enough to buy candy in the village store and sometimes a box of matches. He remembered being without matches in the forest and decided to hoard them.
One Monday, Franek heard his father ask Jurek the usual question. When Pan Wrubel walked off, he said, "Are you a dope! Why don't you add a few more slaps? That's what I do. I'd run away from home if he didn't pay me for hitting me, but this way it's worth it."
The two of them went to the village store to buy candy. Pani Wrubel saw them returning together. "You see, Franek," she said. "You always wanted a little brother. Now you have one." She turned to Jurek. "Why don't you ever go to play with the village boys?"
"Where?"
"Franek will show you."
Franek led Jurek to an empty lot behind the last house of the village. In summer it served as a soccer field. Now a circle of boys, ranging in age from tots to teenagers, was standing around two youngsters fighting with whips. They lashed at each other with a savage fury. Jurek had never seen such a sport. He and Franek joined the circle. The whip fight went on until one boy surrendered. Now, everyone turned to look at Jurek.
"Who's that?"
"He works for us," Franek said.
"Come on, we'll see what you're made of," someone said.
At first Jurek feared he would have to take part in a whip fight. But to join the gang of boys, it turned out, you only had to wrestle. A boy was chosen who seemed a fair match for him. Jurek pinned him easily. Then he had to fight a bigger boy. They wrestled for a long time, rolling on the ground to the cheers of the other boys. At first everyone except Franek cheered for Jurek's rival. Gradually, though, Jurek's grit won him sympathy. In the end it was decided to call it a draw.
From then on, Jurek went to play with the village boys. Sometimes Franek came too. Jurek excelled at rag-ball soccer and tried to stay out of whip fights, though he took part in them when he had to. There were also spitting and peeing contests. Spitting was no problem. In peeing, though, he had to be careful to let no one see that he was circumcised. Fortunately, everyone was looking at where the pee landed. And at running Jurek was the champion. No one was faster.
"I'll bring my big brother tomorrow," a boy said. "Let's see you beat him."
The next day the boy brought his brother. A starting and finish line were drawn and everyone watched tensely. A whistle served as the starting gun. Jurek won. The older brother, humiliated, kicked him.
"You dirty Yid!" he said.
Franek and his friends didn't like that. "Watch it, Zygmunt," Franek said. "Call him a Yid again and I'll have my brother kick your ass."
Zygmunt cursed and walked off. But he didn't forget the insult.
When spring came and Pan Wrubel and his two sons were busy with the plowing and sowing, Jurek was given the job of taking the cows out to pasture. For the first few days, Franek went with him. He showed Jurek his sling shot and demonstrated his skill with it, killing two grouse in no time.
Jurek gathered wood and arranged it for a fire. Franek took one look at it, scattered it with a kick, and looked at it scornfully.
"Come here, you idiot," he said. "I'll teach you how to do it."
He went to the nearby woods and came back with some twigs, some dry pine needles, and a few larger branches. Building a well-aired structure of the twigs, he put the pine needles beneath them and lit them with matches. Once the flames took hold, he added the branches. Soon they had a merry bonfire. Jurek brought mud from the next field and they baked the grouse as village boys have always done.
"Franek, how do I make a slingshot?" Jurek asked.
"I'll sell you this one," Franek said. "I've got two more at home."
"How much do you want for it?"
"Ten zloty. You can earn them back in two or three Sundays."