"Yes, sir."
He looked at her again and nodded toward a rock that stuck out of the ground above him like abottom lip. Sethe walked to it and sat down. The stone had eaten the sun's rays but was nowherenear as hot as she was. Too tired to move, she stayed there, the sun in her eyes making her dizzy.Sweat poured over her and bathed the baby completely. She must have slept sitting up, becausewhen next she opened her eyes the man was standing in front of her with a smoking-hot piece offried eel in his hands. It was an effort to reach for, more to smell, impossible to eat. She beggedhim for water and he gave her some of the Ohio in a jar. Sethe drank it all and begged more. Theclanging was back in her head but she refused to believe that she had come all that way, enduredall she had, to die on the wrong side of the river.
The man watched her streaming face and called one of the boys over.
"Take off that coat," he told him.
"Sir?"
"You heard me."
The boy slipped out of his jacket, whining, "What you gonna do? What I'm gonna wear?"
The man untied the baby from her chest and wrapped it in the boy's coat, knotting the sleeves infront.
"What I'm gonna wear?"
The old man sighed and, after a pause, said, "You want it back, then go head and take it off thatbaby. Put the baby naked in the grass and put your coat back on. And if you can do it, then go on'way somewhere and don't come back."