"Valentin Katayev. A White Sail Gleams (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

But then he changed his mind, lowered the carbine across his saddle, spurred
the horse, and, leaning forward, jumped over the roadside ditch and the high
embankment right into the vineyard. He slapped down his cap and galloped
straight ahead, trampling the vines. Soon he was lost from sight.
The coach continued on its way.
For a time not a soul was to be seen.
All of a sudden there was a stirring in the bushes on the embankment
behind them. A figure jumped into the ditch and then clambered out into the
road.
Veiled in a thick cloud of dust, the figure raced after the coach.
The driver, on his high seat, was probably the first to notice that
figure. But instead of pulling on the brakes he stood up and waved the whip
furiously over his head. The horses broke into a gallop.
But the stranger had already jumped on the footboard. He opened the
rear door and looked in.
His breath came in painful gasps.
He was a stocky man with a young face pale from fright and brown eyes
filled with what seemed either merriment or deadly fear.
A shiny new cap with a button on it, the kind of cap workmen wore on
holidays, sat awkwardly on his large, round, close-cropped head. Yet under
his tight jacket could be seen an embroidered shirt such as farmhands wore,
so that he seemed to be a farm labourer too.
However, his thick trousers of pilot-cloth, which were velvety with
dust, were neither a workman's nor a farm labourer's.
One of the trouser-legs had pulled up, showing the rust-coloured top of
a rough, double-seamed navy boot.
"The sailor!" The instant this terrifying thought flashed through
Petya's mind he clearly saw, to his horror, a blue anchor tattooed on the
back of the hand clenched round the door-knob.
The stranger was obviously just as embarrassed by his sudden intrusion
as were the passengers themselves.
At sight of the dumbfounded gentleman in pince-nez and the two
frightened children, he moved his lips soundlessly; he seemed to be trying
to say hello, or else to apologise.
But all that came of his efforts was a twisted, confused smile.
Finally he waved his hand and was about to jump from the footboard to
the road, but a mounted detail suddenly appeared ahead. He peered cautiously
round the corner of the coach, and when he caught sight of the soldiers in a
cloud of dust he quickly jumped inside, slamming the door after him.
He looked at the passengers with pleading eyes. Then, without saying a
word, he dropped to all fours. To Petya's horror, he crawled under the seat
where the collections were hidden.
Petya looked in despair at Father. But Father sat absolutely
motionless; his face was impassive and somewhat pale, and his beard jutted
forward determinedly. His hands were folded on his stomach; he was twirling
his thumbs.
His entire appearance said: Nothing has happened. You must not ask any
questions. You must sit in your places and continue travelling as before.
Petya, and little Pavlik too, understood Father at once. Mum's the
word! Under the circumstances that was the simplest and best policy.