"Anatoly Rybakov. The bronze bird (Бронзовая птица, англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

When we put on a show, we get a full house, but the minute we announce a
meeting, they all scatter."
"I know all about that," Korovin observed meaningfully.
"Exactly," Genka went on. "And the village kids themselves.... They're
steeped in superstition! Wood-goblins and devils are all they talk about.
Try and organize them!"
"So you're finding it difficult, what?"
"That's not the half of it," Genka said in a mournful voice, but the
next moment he added boastfully, "but we've done harder things. And we'll
get this job done too. Here, we've brought them books," he tapped the sack
Korovin was carrying for him, "we're giving shows and we're helping to stamp
out illiteracy. You'll see, we'll organize the first Young Pioneer troop.
Isn't that right, Misha?"
Misha made no reply. He was thinking how unhappily his duties as troop
leader were starting. Two Young Pioneers had disappeared on the very first
day. Where could they have gone? They could not go far without money or
food. They might get lost in the woods, drown in the river, or get run over
by a train.
Should he inform their parents? No, not for the time being anyway. Why
worry them for nothing? The boys would be found sooner or later. Besides,
their parents would raise the alarm throughout the whole of Moscow. And in
the village, people were now probably saying that the Young Pioneers were
running away, that children should not be allowed to join the troop. That
was what Igor and Seva had done. They had undermined the troop's prestige,
setting all its labours of the past month at naught!
These gloomy thoughts were interrupted by Genka, who cried out:
"There's the manor!"
The boys stopped.
A two-storeyed house surrounded by trees stood before them high on a
hill. It seemed to have several roofs and many chimneys. A big, semicircular
verandah with banisters resting on small, white, brick posts divided the
house into two equal halves. Over the verandah there was a loft with windows
on either side and a recess in the middle. A broad avenue led across the
garden to the house. The first, smooth earthen stretch gave way to sloping
stone steps that gradually formed a staircase running round the verandah on
both sides.
"Like it?" Genka asked, clicking his tongue.
"The important thing is what it's got," Korovin said, inhaling noisily.
"Nothing," Genka assured him.
Indeed, the estate looked neglected. The orchard was overgrowing with
weeds, and the pond was covered with filthy-green slime. Every thing looked
dead, lifeless, cheerless.
It was only when the boys had penetrated deep into the orchard that the
oppressive silence around them was broken by resounding young voices.
There were white tents beyond a broken fence. That was the camp. The
troop came running to meet Misha. Zina Kruglova was in front. She ran the
fastest on her stubby legs.

Chapter 4