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

Genka breathlessly clambered into the hut with a big warm piece of
under-done beef under his shirt.
"Here, look," he whispered, "took it out of the soup."
"You're mad!" Misha cried in horror. "Don't you realize you've left
everyone without their dinner?"
"What of it!" Genka exclaimed, throwing his head back recklessly. "I'm
going away as a scout, aren't I? They can cook another piece of beef for all
I care." He chuckled, well pleased with himself.
Misha ate the meat, tearing it with his teeth and hands. What a
blockhead Genka was, after all! He was sure to get a belting from his stern
father, a tall, thin man with a grey moustache, who was an engine-driver.
And his step-mother would also have something to say about it.
"Heard the news?" Genka asked.
"What news?"
"Catch me telling you!"
"That's your business. Only I can't imagine you as a scout. Will you
keep things from me then, too?"
The threat in Misha's voice had its effect. Now, after the theft of the
meat from the pot, Genka had only one recourse-to be a scout. That meant he
had to obey.
"We had a man from Nosovka to see us just now," Genka said, "and he
told us Nikitsky's gang's quite near."
"What about it?" Misha asked, fiercely chewing the meat.
"Don't you see? They may attack Revsk."
"And you believed it?" Misha said with a laugh. "You poor sap. And you
want to be a scout!"
"Why shouldn't I?" Genka stammered.
"Nikitsky's near Chernigov, that's why. He can't attack us because we
have a garrison. See? A gar-ri-son...."
"What's a garrison?"
"You don't know what a garrison is? It's... well, how shall I put it. .
it's-"
"Wait a minute! Hear that?" Genka whispered suddenly. Misha stopped
chewing and listened. Shots rang out somewhere beyond the houses and the
reports were drowned in the blue dome of the sky. This was followed by the
screeching of the siren at the raid way station and the hurried splutter and
rattle of a machine-gun.
The boys looked silently at each other in alarm, then pushed aside the
foliage and peeped out of the hut.
Clouds of dust were rising from the road to Nosovka. The sound of
firing came from the railway station and, before the boys could collect
their wits, yelling horsemen in red-topped lambskin caps their whips
whistling in the air, galloped up the deserted street. Whiteguards had
broken into the town.


Chapter 6

THE RAID