"Anatoly Rybakov. The dirk (Кортик, англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

rays of the July sun.
"How will you go home now?" Genka asked. "You'll get it from your
Grandmother, you know."
"I shan't go home at all," Misha announced.
"What d'you mean?"
"I shan't go, that's all. Why should I? To-morrow Polevoy is going to
take his detachment out against Nikitsky's gang, and he'll take me with him.
The job's got to be done."
"What'll you do in the detachment? Be drummer to a retired goat?" Genka
burst out laughing.
"You can laugh as much as you like," Misha replied imperturbably.
"Polevoy's taking me as scout. In a war all scouts are boys. Polevoy also
told me to choose some other fellows, but-" he looked regretfully at Genka,
"we haven't got the right fellows." Misha sighed. "Looks as though I'll have
to go alone."
Genka looked appealingly into Misha's eyes.
"Well, all right," Misha breathed condescendingly, "bring me something
to eat and we'll think it over. Only mind you don't say a word to anyone,
it's a big secret."
"Hooray!" Genka shouted. "We're going to be scouts!"
"There you go!" Misha said angrily, "You're already yelling and giving
the secret away! I shan't take you."
"All right, all right!" Genka said lowering his voice to a whisper; he
slid down the tree and disappeared into the garden.
While he waited for Genka, Misha stretched himself out on the plank
floor and rested his chin on his fists. This was a fix! He could not sleep
in the street, but he was ashamed of returning home, especially of facing
Grandfather. Then he remembered about the dirk-someone might find it, and
that would be a pretty kettle of fish!
Misha looked at the garden through the foliage. It was planted with low
apple-trees, luxuriant pears, raspberry-canes and gooseberry bushes. Why, he
asked himself, did different fruit grow on different trees when they all
grew on the same ground next to each other?
A lady-bird settled on Misha's hand; it was small, round, had a hard
red body and a black pin-point head. Misha picked it up carefully, put it on
his palm and chanted: "Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home; your house is on
fire, your children alone"-and it unfolded its tiny wings and flew away.
A wasp droned into the hut, circled round Misha's head and, falling
silent, sat on his leg. Would it sting him? Not if he kept still, Misha
thought, and lay motionless. It crawled along his leg, then took off with a
monotonous hum.
A vast but unnoticed living world was teaming all around him. An ant
dragged a pine needle, throwing on the ground a small angular shadow that
moved with it. A little grasshopper leaped in the grass, its long legs bent
so sharply they seemed to be broken in the middle. A sparrow hopped in the
garden path, its awkward sideways movements watched by the dreamy,
half-closed but attentive eyes of a cat dozing on the steps of the
summer-house. The breeze carried into the hut the smell of the grass and the
scent of flowers. A tender drowsiness fell upon Misha and he closed his eyes
and forgot his troubles. .. .