The story of Arkady Gaidar Timur and his team. "Timur and his team": the main characters of the work of A.P. Gaidar

07.04.2019

For three months now, the commander of the armored battalion, Colonel Aleksandrov, has not been at home. He was probably at the front.

In the middle of summer, he sent a telegram in which he invited his daughters Olga and Zhenya to spend the rest of the vacation near Moscow in their dacha.

Shifting a colored kerchief to the back of her head and leaning on the stick of a brush, scowling Zhenya stood in front of Olga, and she said to her:

- I went with my things, and you will clean the apartment. You don't have to twitch your eyebrows or lick your lips. Then lock the door. Take the books to the library. Don't go to your friends, but go straight to the station. From there send this telegram to dad. Then get on the train and come to the dacha ... Evgenia, you must obey me. I am your sister ...

“And I’m yours too.

“Yes… but I'm older… and in the end, that's what my dad told me to do.

When a car was snarling in the yard, Zhenya sighed and looked around. There was chaos and disorder all around. She went to the dusty mirror, which reflected the portrait of her father on the wall.

OK! Let Olga be older and for now you need to obey her. But then she, Zhenya, has the same nose, mouth, eyebrows as her father. And, probably, the same character will be like him.

She tied her hair tighter with a scarf. She kicked off her sandals. She took a rag. She pulled the tablecloth off the table, put the bucket under the tap and, grabbing the brush, dragged the pile of rubbish to the threshold.

Soon a kerosene stove puffed and a primus hummed.

The floor was flooded with water. In the zinc linen trough, soap scum hissed and burst. And passers-by from the street looked in surprise at the barefoot girl in a red sundress, who, standing on the windowsill of the third floor, boldly wiped the glass of the open windows.

The truck raced along the wide, sunny road. With her feet on the suitcase and leaning on a soft knot, Olga was sitting in a wicker chair. On her lap lay a ginger kitten and fiddled with a bouquet of cornflowers.

At the thirty kilometer they were overtaken by a marching Red Army motorized column. Sitting in rows on wooden benches, the Red Army men held their rifles pointed towards the sky and sang in unison.

At the sound of this song, the windows and doors in the huts opened wider. From behind the fences, from the gates, delighted children flew out. They waved their hands, threw unripe apples to the Red Army men, shouted "Hurray" in pursuit and immediately started battles, battles, cutting into wormwood and nettles with swift cavalry attacks.

The truck turned into a dacha village and stopped in front of a small, ivy-covered dacha.

The chauffeur and his assistant threw down the sides and began to unload things, while Olga opened the glazed terrace.

A large neglected garden was visible from here. In the back of the garden was a clumsy two-story shed, and a small red flag fluttered over the roof of the shed.

Olga returned to the car. Here a brisk one jumped up to her old woman- it was a neighbor, a milkmaid. She volunteered to clean up the dacha, wash the windows, floors and walls.

While the neighbor was taking apart the pots and rags, Olga took the kitten and walked into the garden.

Hot resin glittered on the trunks of the cherries peeled by sparrows. It smelled strongly of currants, chamomile and wormwood. The mossy roof of the shed was in holes, and from these holes some thin rope wires stretched over the top and disappeared into the foliage of the trees.

Olga made her way through the hazel and brushed the cobwebs off her face.

What? The red flag over the roof was no longer there, and only a stick was sticking out there.

Then Olga heard a quick, alarming whisper. And suddenly, breaking dry branches, the heavy ladder - the one that was leaning against the window of the shed's attic - flew with a crash along the wall and, crushing burdocks, crashed loudly against the ground.

Rope wires over the roof trembled. Scratching his hands, the kitten tumbled into the nettles. Perplexed, Olga stopped, looked around, listened. But neither among the greenery, nor behind someone else's fence, nor in the black square of the shed window, was no one seen or heard.

She returned to the porch.

“These are the kids who play in other people's gardens,” the milkmaid explained to Olga.

- Yesterday at the neighbors' two apple trees were shaken off, a pear tree was broken. Such people went ... hooligans. I, dear, took my son to the Red Army to serve. And when he went, he did not drink wine. "Goodbye," she says, "Mom." And he went and whistled, dear. Well, in the evening, as expected, I felt sad and cried. And at night I wake up, and it seems to me that someone is sneaking around the yard, sneaking around. Well, I think I'm a lonely person now, there is no one to intercede ... But how much do I, old, need? Hit the head with a brick - so I'm ready. However, God had mercy - nothing was stolen. They sniffed, sniffed and left. There was a tub in my yard - it's oak, you can't turn it off together - so they drove her twenty paces to the gate. That's all. And what kind of people were, what kind of people - it is a dark matter.

At dusk, when the cleaning was over, Olga went out onto the porch. Then from a leather case she carefully took out a white, sparkling with mother-of-pearl accordion - a gift from her father, which he had sent her for her birthday.

She put the accordion on her lap, slung the belt over her shoulder and began to select the music to the words of the song she had recently heard:

Oh, if only once

I still have to see you,

Oh, if only once

And two and three

And you won't understand

On a fast plane

As I expected you until the morning dawn

Pilot pilots! Machine bombs!

So we flew away on a long journey.

When will you be back?

I don't know if soon

Just come back ... at least someday.

Even at the time when Olga was humming this song, several times she threw short, wary glances in the direction of a dark bush that grew in the yard by the fence. When she finished playing, she quickly got up and, turning to the bush, asked loudly:

- Listen! Why are you hiding and what do you want here?

A man in an ordinary white suit stepped out from behind a bush. He bowed his head and answered her politely:

- I am not hiding. I'm a bit of an artist myself. I didn't mean to disturb you. And so I stood and listened.

- Yes, but you could stand and listen from the street. You climbed over the fence for something.

- Me? .. Over the fence? .. - the man was offended. - Sorry, I'm not a cat. There, in the corner of the fence, boards were broken, and I got through this hole from the street.

- Clear! Olga smiled. - But here's the gate. And be so kind as to sneak through it back into the street.

The man was obedient. Without a word, he walked through the gate, locked the bolt behind him, and Olga liked that.

- Wait! - going down from the step, she stopped him. - Who are you? Artist?

“No,” the man replied. - I am a mechanical engineer, but in free time I play and sing in our factory opera.

- Listen, - suddenly Olga simply suggested to him. - Show me to the station. I'm expecting a little sister. It's already dark, late, but she's still gone and gone. Remember, I'm not afraid of anyone, but I don't know the streets here yet. But wait, why are you opening the gate? You can wait for me at the fence too.

She carried the accordion, threw a handkerchief over her shoulders, and walked out onto the dark street that smelled of dew and flowers.

Olga was angry with Zhenya and therefore spoke little with her companion on the way. He told her that his name was Georgy, his last name was Garayev, and he worked as a mechanical engineer at an automobile plant.

Waiting for Zhenya, they had already missed two trains, and finally the third, the last, passed.

- With this wretched girl you will sip grief! - Olga exclaimed sadly. - Well, if only I was forty or at least thirty years old. And then she is thirteen, I am eighteen, and therefore she does not listen to me at all.

- Forty is not necessary! - Georgiy resolutely refused. - Eighteen is much better! Do not worry in vain. Your sister will arrive early in the morning.

Colonel Aleksandrov has been at the front for three months. He sends a telegram to his daughters in Moscow, invites them to spend the rest of the summer at the dacha.

The eldest, eighteen-year-old Olga, goes there with her things, leaving thirteen-year-old Zhenya to clean up the apartment. Olga is studying to be an engineer, makes music, sings, she is strict, serious girl... At the dacha, Olga meets a young engineer Georgy Garayev. She waits until late for Zhenya, but still no sister.

And Zhenya at this time, having arrived at the dacha settlement, in search of mail to send a telegram to his father, accidentally comes to someone's empty dacha, and the dog does not let her go back. Zhenya falls asleep. Waking up in the morning, he sees that there is no dog, and next to him is an encouraging note from the unknown Timur. Having found a fake revolver, Zhenya plays with it. A blank shot, which broke the mirror, frightens her, she runs away, having forgotten the key to the Moscow apartment and the telegram in the house. Zhenya comes to his sister and already foresees her anger, but suddenly some girl brings her a key and a receipt from a telegram sent with a note from the same Timur.

Zhenya climbs into an old barn at the back of the garden. There she finds the wheel and starts turning it. And from the steering wheel there are rope wires. Zhenya, without knowing it, is giving signals to someone! The barn is filled with many boys. They want to beat Zhenya, who unceremoniously invaded their headquarters. But the commander stops them. This is the same Timur (he is the nephew of Georgy Garayev). He invites Zhenya to stay and listen to what the guys are doing. It turns out that they help people, especially the families of the Red Army soldiers. But they do all this in secret from adults. The boys decide to "take special care of" Mishka Kvakin and his gang, which climbs other people's gardens and steals apples.

Olga thinks that Timur is a bully and forbids Zhenya to hang out with him. Zhenya cannot explain anything: it would mean divulging a secret.

Early in the morning, the guys from Timur's team fill the barrel of the old milkmaid with water. Then they put firewood in a woodpile for another old woman - the grandmother of the lively girl Nyurki, they find her a missing goat. And Zhenya plays with the little daughter of Lieutenant Pavlov, who was recently killed at the border.

The Timurovites draw up an ultimatum to Mishka Kvakin. They order him to appear with his assistant, the Figure, and bring a list of gang members. Geika and Kolya Kolokolchikov deliver the ultimatum. And when they come for an answer, the Quakin people lock them up in the old chapel.

Georgy Garayev rides Olga on a motorcycle. He, like Olga, is engaged in singing: he plays an old partisan in the opera. His "harsh and terrible" make-up will scare anyone you want, and the joker Georgy often uses it (he owned the fake revolver).

The Timurovites manage to free Geika and Kolya and lock the Figure in their place. They ambush the Kwakin gang, shut everyone up in the booth in the market square and hang a poster on the booth that the "captives" are apple thieves.

In the park - noisy holiday... George was asked to sing. Olga agreed to accompany him on the accordion. After the performance, Olga encounters Timur and Zhenya walking in the park. The angry older sister accuses Timur of turning Zhenya against her, she is angry with George too: why didn't he admit earlier that Timur was his nephew? George, in turn, forbids Timur to communicate with Zhenya.

Olga, in order to teach Zhenya a lesson, leaves for Moscow. There she receives a telegram: her father will be in Moscow at night. He only comes to see his daughters for three hours.

And a friend comes to Zhenya's dacha - the widow of Lieutenant Pavlov. She urgently needs to go to Moscow to meet her mother, and she leaves her little daughter for the night with Zhenya. The girl falls asleep, and Zhenya leaves to play volleyball. Meanwhile, telegrams come from my father and from Olga. Zhenya notices the telegrams only late in the evening. But she has no one to leave the girl, and the last train has already left. Then Zhenya sends a signal to Timur and tells him about his misfortune. Timur instructs Kolya Kolokolchikov to guard the sleeping girl - for this he has to tell Kolya's grandfather everything. He approves of the boys' actions. Timur himself takes Zhenya on a motorcycle to the city (there is no one to ask permission, his uncle is in Moscow).

The father is upset that he never managed to see Zhenya. And when the time is already approaching three, Zhenya and Timur suddenly appear. Minutes fly quickly - Colonel Aleksandrov has to go to the front.

Georgy finds neither his nephew nor a motorcycle at his dacha and decides to send Timur home to his mother, but then Timur comes along, along with Zhenya and Olga. They explain everything.

George receives a summons. In the form of a captain of tank forces, he comes to Olga to say goodbye. Zhenya sends a "common call sign", all the boys from the Timurov team run up. All together go to see off George. Olga plays the accordion. Georgy leaves. Olga says to the saddened Timur: "You have always thought about people, and they will repay you in kind."

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For three months now, the commander of the armored battalion, Colonel Aleksandrov, has not been at home. He was probably at the front.

In the middle of summer, he sent a telegram in which he invited his daughters Olga and Zhenya to spend the rest of the vacation near Moscow in their dacha.

Shifting a colored kerchief to the back of her head and leaning on the stick of a brush, scowling Zhenya stood in front of Olga, and she said to her:

“And I’m yours too.

“Yes… but I'm older… and in the end, that's what my dad told me to do.

When a car was snarling in the yard, Zhenya sighed and looked around. There was chaos and disorder all around. She went to the dusty mirror, which reflected the portrait of her father on the wall.

OK! Let Olga be older and for now you need to obey her. But then she, Zhenya, has the same nose, mouth, eyebrows as her father. And, probably, the same character will be like him.

Soon a kerosene stove puffed and a primus hummed.

At the thirty kilometer they were overtaken by a marching Red Army motorized column. Sitting in rows on wooden benches, the Red Army men held their rifles pointed towards the sky and sang in unison.

The truck turned into a dacha village and stopped in front of a small, ivy-covered dacha.

The chauffeur and his assistant threw down the sides and began to unload things, while Olga opened the glazed terrace.

A large neglected garden was visible from here. In the back of the garden was a clumsy two-story shed, and a small red flag fluttered over the roof of the shed.

Olga returned to the car. Here a lively old woman jumped up to her - it was a neighbor, a milkmaid. She volunteered to clean up the dacha, wash the windows, floors and walls.

While the neighbor was taking apart the pots and rags, Olga took the kitten and walked into the garden.

Olga made her way through the hazel and brushed the cobwebs off her face.

What? The red flag over the roof was no longer there, and only a stick was sticking out there.

Then Olga heard a quick, disturbing whisper. And suddenly, breaking dry branches, the heavy ladder - the one that was leaning against the window of the shed's attic - flew with a crash along the wall and, crushing burdocks, crashed loudly against the ground.

She returned to the porch.

“These are the kids who play in other people's gardens,” the milkmaid explained to Olga. - Yesterday at the neighbors' two apple trees were shaken off, a pear tree was broken. Such people went ... hooligans. I, dear, took my son to the Red Army to serve. And when he went, he did not drink wine. "Goodbye," she says, "Mom." And he went and whistled, dear. Well, in the evening, as expected, I felt sad and cried.

And at night I wake up and it seems to me that someone is sneaking around the yard, sneaking around. Well, I think I'm a lonely person now, there is no one to intercede ... But how much do I, old, need? Hit the head with a brick - so I'm ready. However, God had mercy - nothing was stolen. They sniffed, sniffed and left. There was a tub in my yard - it's oak, you can't turn it off together - so they drove her twenty paces to the gate. That's all. And what kind of people were, what kind of people - it is a dark matter.

She put the accordion on her lap, slung the belt over her shoulder and began to select the music to the words of the song she had recently heard:

Oh, if only once
I still have to see you,
Oh, if only ... once ...
And two ... and three ...
And you won't understand
On a fast plane
As I expected you until the morning dawn.
Yes!
Pilot pilots! Machine bombs!
So we flew away on a long journey.
When will you be back?
I don't know if soon
Just come back ...
at least someday.

- Listen! Why are you hiding and what do you want here?

A man in an ordinary white suit stepped out from behind a bush. He bowed his head and answered her politely:

- I am not hiding. I'm a bit of an artist myself. I didn't mean to disturb you. And so I stood and listened.

- Yes, but you could stand and listen from the street. You climbed over the fence for something.

- Me? .. Over the fence? .. - the man was offended. - Sorry, I'm not a cat. There, in the corner of the fence, boards were broken, and I got through this hole from the street.

- Clear! Olga smiled. - But here's the gate. And be so kind as to sneak through it back into the street.

The man was obedient. Without a word, he walked through the gate, locked the bolt behind him, and Olga liked that.

- Wait! - going down from the step, she stopped him. - Who are you? Artist?

“No,” the man replied. - I am a mechanical engineer, but in my free time I play and sing in our factory opera.

- Listen, - suddenly Olga simply suggested to him. - Show me to the station. I'm expecting a little sister. It's already dark, late, but she's still gone and gone. Understand, I'm not afraid of anyone, but I don't know the streets here yet. But wait, why are you opening the gate? You can wait for me at the fence too.

She carried the accordion, threw a handkerchief over her shoulders, and walked out onto the dark street that smelled of dew and flowers.

Waiting for Zhenya, they had already missed two trains, and finally the third, the last, passed.

- Forty is not necessary! - Georgiy resolutely refused. - Eighteen is much better! Do not worry in vain. Your sister will arrive early in the morning.

The platform was empty. George took out a cigarette case. Immediately two young youths approached him and, waiting for the fire, took out their cigarettes.

“Young man,” said George, lighting a match and illuminating the elder's face. - Before reaching out to me with a cigarette, you need to say hello, because I already had the honor to meet you in the park, where you laboriously broke the board out of the new fence. Your name is Mikhail Kvakin. Is not it?

The boy snorted, backed away, and George put out the match, took Olga by the elbow and led her to the house.

When they left, the second boy thrust a soiled cigarette behind his ear and casually asked:

- What kind of propagandist is this? Local?

- Local, - Kvakin answered reluctantly. - This is Timki Garayev's uncle. Timka would have to be caught, he had to beat him up. He picked up a company for himself, and they seem to be holding a case against us.

Then both friends noticed under the lantern at the end of the platform a gray-haired venerable gentleman, who, leaning on a stick, was going down the stairs.

It was local, Dr. F. G. Kolokolchikov. They rushed after him, loudly asking if he had any matches. But this gentleman did not like their appearance and voices in any way, because, turning around, he threatened them with a gnarled stick and walked gravely on his way.

From the Moscow railway station, Zhenya did not have time to send a telegram to her father, and therefore, getting off the suburban train, she decided to find the village post office.

Passing through the old park and collecting bells, she imperceptibly came out to the intersection of two streets fenced with gardens, the deserted appearance of which clearly showed that she had come to the wrong place.

Not far off, she saw a little nimble girl who, with curses, dragged a stubborn goat by the horns.

- Tell me, dear, please, - Zhenya shouted to her, - how can I get from here to the post office?

But then the goat rushed, twisted its horns and rushed at a gallop through the park, and the girl, screaming, rushed after her. Zhenya looked around: it was already getting dark, and there were no people around. She opened the gate of someone's gray two-story dacha and walked along the path to the porch.

- Tell me, please, - without opening the door, Zhenya asked loudly but very politely, - how can I get from here to the post office?

She was not answered. She stood for a moment, thought, opened the door and went through the corridor into the room. The owners were not at home. Then, embarrassed, she turned to leave, but then a large light red dog crept out from under the table noiselessly. She carefully examined the dumbfounded girl and, with a soft growl, lay down across the path at the door.

- You're stupid! - Zhenya shouted, spreading her fingers out in fear. - I'm not a thief! I didn't take anything from you. This is the key to our apartment. This is a telegram to dad. My dad is a commander. Do you understand?

The dog was silent and did not move. And Zhenya, slowly moving towards the open window, continued:

- Well! You lie? And lie down ... A very nice dog ... so smart-looking, cute.

But as soon as Zhenya touched the window sill with her hand, the pretty dog jumped up with a menacing growl, and, in fear, jumping onto the sofa, Zhenya tucked her legs.

“Very strange,” she said, almost crying. - You catch robbers and spies, and I ... a man. Yes! She stuck her tongue out at the dog. - Stupid!

Zhenya put the key and the telegram on the edge of the table. We had to wait for the owners.

But an hour passed, then another ... It was already dark. Through the open window came the distant whistle of locomotives, the barking of dogs, and the banging of a volleyball. Somewhere they played the guitar. And only here, near the gray dacha, everything was deaf and quiet.

Leaning her head on the hard cushion of the sofa, Zhenya began to cry softly.

Finally she fell asleep soundly.

She woke up only in the morning.

Lush, rain-washed foliage rustled outside the window. A well wheel creaked nearby. Somewhere they sawed wood, but here, at the dacha, it was still quiet.

Gaidar Arkady Petrovich is an author with whom I have repeatedly encountered, for example, reading the work of Chuk and Gek. This summer I again came across this wonderful author when I read another work of Gaidar Timur and his team. I got acquainted with the work this summer. I read the author's work in one breath, because it is a fascinating story that tells about the good intentions of the Timurovites, about their help to ordinary people.

Gaidar Timur and his team

Reader's diary and work Timur and his team of author Gaidar introduces us to a boy who managed to rally his friends and put common goal: to help all those who need help, and first of all, the guys helped the families of the Red Army soldiers. They help secretly from adults, therefore, Zhenya, who, having arrived from Moscow with her sister to the village, having joined the ranks of the Timurovites, could not tell her sister the whole truth about Timur. Her sister considered Timur a bully and forbade Zhenya to communicate with him. But the children continued their good work. So, they helped the old women. Either they will chop wood, then the goat will be found, then the barrel will be filled with water, then they will play with the child. But, most main goal the guys had to expose and disperse the gang of Mishka Kvakin, which often stole apples. And the guys manage, by setting up an ambush, to lock the hooligans in the market square, where Timur and his team attached a sign that informed everyone that those apple thieves were locked up.

The good news in the work is that adults finally take the side of children, understanding them and supporting them. Olya, Masha's older sister, can change her opinion about Timur when Timur, in spite of everything, brought Zhenya on his uncle's motorcycle, if only Zhenya could see her father, who arrived in the city for several hours. But since time was lost, since the telegram was read too late, Zhenya was able to see her father for only a few minutes. But, thanks to Timur, the meeting, though fleeting, took place. It was this case that changed Olga's opinion about Timur.

Timur and his team are the main characters

In the work "Timur and his team" the main character is Timur - this is a simple most ordinary boy. Although no, you cannot call him ordinary, because he is a man with a kind and sympathetic heart, therefore he is always ready to come to everyone's aid. This is a proud commissioner who rallied the guys. Now Zhenya, Nyurka, Kolya, Geika, Sima, who are also the heroes of the work, play secret game, which is incomprehensible to adults, therefore, because of this, conflicts arise between children and adults. But, this game is permeated with a great and generous feeling of love for the Motherland, because Timurovites help the families of the Red Army soldiers.

Also the heroine of the work Timur and his team are Zhenya and her sister Olya. Zhenya, after the death of her mother, she began to be brought up older sister... Her sister is strict and wants Zhenya to grow up according to all the rules, to be obedient and disciplined. But Zhenya does not quite agree with this, because this is a thirteen-year-old child who wants adventure and, thanks to Timur and his team, Zhenya got such an opportunity.

There are also negative heroes in the person of Mishka Kvakin and his gang, with which Timur is waging a real war.

Having met Timur and his team in summary, I concluded that this is a good work that makes you think, because in our time there are a lot of people who need help and it would be good if the schoolchildren, united in one team, became some kind of Timurovites who would perform good deeds. So I, today, go to a pensioner neighbor to visit, perhaps she needs my help, which she will not refuse.

Information for parents: Timur and his team is a story written by Arkady Gaidar. She talks about how Timur, together with his friends, gathered a team and helped the old people and families of the Red Army soldiers. We fought against a team of hooligans so that they did not create problems for people. The story "Timur and His Team" can be read to older children, aged 9 to 12 years.

Read the tale Timur and his team

For three months now, the commander of the armored division, Colonel Aleksandrov, has not been at home. He was probably at the front.

In the middle of summer, he sent a telegram in which he invited his daughters Olga and Zhenya to spend the rest of the vacation near Moscow in their dacha.

Shifting a colored kerchief to the back of her head and leaning on the stick of a brush, scowling Zhenya stood in front of Olga, and she said to her:

- I went with my things, and you will clean the apartment. You don't have to pull your eyebrows or lick your lips. Then lock the door. Take the books to the library. Don't go to your friends, but go straight to the station. From there send this telegram to dad. Then get on the train and come to the dacha ... Evgenia, you must obey me. I am your sister ...

“And I’m yours too.

“Yes… but I'm older… and in the end, that's what my dad told me to do.

When a car was snarling in the yard, Zhenya sighed and looked around. There was chaos and disorder all around. She went to the dusty mirror, which reflected the portrait of her father on the wall.

OK! Let Olga be older and for now you need to obey her. But then she, Zhenya, has the same nose, mouth, eyebrows as her father. And, probably, the same character will be like him.

She tied her hair tighter with a scarf. She kicked off her sandals. She took a rag. She pulled the tablecloth off the table, put a bucket under the tap and, grabbing a brush, dragged a pile of rubbish to the threshold.

Soon a kerosene stove puffed and a primus hummed.

The floor was flooded with water. In the zinc linen trough, soap scum hissed and burst. And passers-by from the street looked in amazement at the barefoot girl in a red sarafan, who, standing on the windowsill of the third floor, boldly wiped the glass of the open windows.

The truck raced along the wide, sunny road. Putting her feet on the suitcase and leaning on a soft knot, Olga was sitting in a wicker chair. A ginger kitten lay on her lap and fiddled with a bouquet of cornflowers with its paws.

At the thirty kilometer they were overtaken by a marching Red Army motorized column. Sitting in rows on wooden benches, the Red Army men held their rifles pointed towards the sky and sang in unison.

The truck turned into a dacha village and stopped in front of a small cottage covered with ivy.

The chauffeur and his assistant threw down the sides and began to unload things, and Olga opened the glassed-in terrace.

A large neglected garden was visible from here. In the back of the garden was a clumsy two-story shed, and a small red flag fluttered over the roof of the shed.

Olga returned to the car. Here a lively old woman jumped up to her - it was a neighbor, a milkmaid. She volunteered to clean up the dacha, wash the windows, floors and walls.

While the neighbor was taking apart the pots and rags, Olga took the kitten and walked into the garden.

Hot resin glittered on the trunks, peeled by sparrows of cherries. It smelled strongly of currants, chamomile and wormwood. The mossy roof of the shed was in holes, and from these holes some thin rope wires stretched over the top and disappeared into the foliage of the trees.

Olga made her way through the hazel and brushed the cobwebs off her face.

What? The red flag over the roof was no longer there, and only a stick was sticking out there.

Rope wires over the roof trembled. Scratching its hands, the kitten tumbled into the nettles. Perplexed, Olga stopped, looked around, listened. But neither among the greenery, nor behind someone else's fence, nor in the black square of the shed window, was no one seen or heard.

She returned to the porch.

“These are the kids who play in other people's gardens,” the milkmaid explained to Olga.

- Yesterday at the neighbors' two apple trees were shaken off, a pear tree was broken. Such people went ... hooligans. I, dear, took my son to the Red Army to serve. And as he went, he did not drink wine. “Goodbye,” she says, “Mom.” And he went and whistled, dear. Well, in the evening, as expected, I felt sad and cried. And at night I wake up, and it seems to me that someone is sneaking around the yard, sneaking around. Well, I think I'm a lonely person now, there is no one to intercede ... But how much do I, old, need? Hit the head with a brick - so I'm ready. However, God had mercy - nothing was stolen. They sniffed, sniffed and left. There was a tub in my yard - it's oak, you can't turn it off together - so they drove her twenty steps to the gate. That's all. And what kind of people were, what kind of people was a dark matter.

She put the accordion on her lap, slung the belt over her shoulder and began to select the music to the words of the song she had recently heard:

Oh, if only once

I still have to see you,

Oh, if only once

And two and three

And you will not understand

On a fast plane

As I expected you until the morning dawn

Pilot pilots! Machine bombs!

So we flew away on a long journey.

When will you be back?

I don't know if soon

- Listen! Why are you hiding and what do you want here?

A man in an ordinary white suit stepped out from behind a bush. He bowed his head and answered her politely:

- I am not hiding. I'm a bit of an artist myself. I didn't mean to disturb you. And so I stood and listened.

- Yes, but you could stand and listen from the street. You climbed over the fence for something.

- Me? .. Over the fence? .. - the man was offended. - Sorry, I'm not a cat. There, in the corner of the fence, boards were broken, and I got through this hole from the street.

“I see!” Olga smiled. “But here's the gate. And would you be so kind as to sneak through it back into the street.

The man was obedient. Without saying a word, he went through the gate, locked the latch behind him, and Olga liked that.

“Wait!”, Going down the steps, she stopped him. “Who are you? Artist?

“No,” the man replied. “I am a mechanical engineer, but in my free time I play and sing in our factory opera.

- Listen, - suddenly Olga simply suggested to him. - Escort me to the station. I'm waiting little sister... It's already dark, late, but she's still gone and gone. Remember, I'm not afraid of anyone, but I don't know the streets here yet. But wait, why are you opening the gate? You can wait for me at the fence too.

She carried the accordion, threw a handkerchief over her shoulders, and walked out onto the dark street that smelled of dew and flowers.

Waiting for Zhenya, they had already missed two trains, and finally the third, the last, passed.

“With this wretched girl, you’ll have a grief!” Olga exclaimed sadly. “Well, if I were still forty or at least thirty years old. And then she is thirteen, I am eighteen, and therefore she does not listen to me at all.

“Forty is not necessary!” Georgiy refused resolutely. “Eighteen is much better! Do not worry in vain. Your sister will arrive early in the morning.

The platform was empty. George took out a cigarette case. Immediately two young youths approached him and, waiting for the fire, took out their cigarettes.

- Young man, - lighting a match and illuminating the elder's face, said George. - Before reaching out to me with a cigarette, you need to say hello, because I already had the honor to meet you in the park, where you laboriously broke the board out of the new fence. Your name is Mikhail Kvakin. Is not it?

The boy snorted, backed away, and Georgy put out the match, took Olga by the elbow and led her to the house.

When they left, the second boy thrust a soiled cigarette behind his ear and casually asked:

- What kind of propagandist is this? Local?

Then both friends noticed under the lamp at the end of the platform a gray-haired venerable gentleman, who, leaning on a stick, was going down the stairs.

It was a local resident, Dr. FG Kolokolchikov. They rushed after him, loudly asking if he had any matches. But this gentleman did not like their appearance and voices in any way, because, turning around, he threatened them with a gnarled stick and went his way sedately.

From the Moscow railway station, Zhenya did not have time to send a telegram to her father, and therefore, getting off the suburban train, she decided to find the village post office.

Not far off, she saw a little nimble girl who, with curses, dragged a stubborn goat by the horns.

- Tell me, dear, please, - Zhenya shouted to her, - how can I get from here to the post office?

- Tell me, please, - without opening the door, Zhenya asked loudly but very politely: - how can I get from here to the post office?

“You, stupid!” Zhenya shouted, spreading her fingers out in fear. “I'm not a thief! I didn't take anything from you. This is the key to our apartment. This is a telegram to dad. My dad is a commander. Do you understand?

The dog was silent and did not move. And Zhenya, slowly moving towards the open window, continued:

- Well! You lie? And lie down ... A very nice dog ... so smart-looking, cute.

But as soon as Zhenya touched the window sill with her hand, the pretty dog jumped up with a menacing growl, and, in fear, jumping onto the sofa, Zhenya tucked her legs.

“It’s very strange,” she said, almost crying. Yes! ”She stuck her tongue out at the dog.

Zhenya put the key and the telegram on the edge of the table. We had to wait for the owners.

Leaning her head on the hard cushion of the sofa, Zhenya began to cry quietly.

Finally, she fell asleep soundly.

She woke up only in the morning.

Lush, rain-washed foliage rustled outside the window. A well wheel creaked nearby. Somewhere they sawed wood, but here, at the dacha, it was still quiet.

Under Zhenya's head was now a soft leather pillow, and her legs were covered with a light sheet. There was no dog on the floor.

So someone came here at night!

Zhenya jumped up, flung her hair back, tugged at the rumpled sundress, took the key from the table, the unsent telegram, and wanted to run away.

And then on the table she saw a sheet of paper on which it was written in large blue pencil:

"Girl, when you leave, slam the door tightly." Below was the signature: "Timur".

“Timur? Who is Timur? We ought to see and thank this person. "

She looked into the next room. There was a desk, an ink set, an ashtray, and a small mirror on it. To the right, next to leather car leggings, lay an old, tattered revolver. A crooked Turkish saber stood right there at the table, in a peeling and scratched scabbard. Zhenya put down the key and the telegram, touched the saber, took it out of its sheath, raised the blade above her head and looked in the mirror.

The look turned out to be stern, formidable. It would be nice to shoot like that and then bring a card to school! One could lie that her father once took her to the front with him. V left hand you can take a revolver. Like this. It will be even better. She pulled her eyebrows to refusal, pursed her lips and, aiming at the mirror, pulled the trigger.

A crash hit the room. Smoke obscured the window. A table mirror fell on the ashtray. And, leaving both the key and the telegram on the table, the stunned Zhenya flew out of the room and rushed away from this strange and dangerous house.

Somehow, she found herself on the bank of the river. Now she had neither the key to the Moscow apartment, nor the receipt for the telegram, nor the telegram itself. And now Olga had to tell everything: about the dog, and about spending the night in an empty dacha, and about the Turkish saber, and, finally, about the shot. Bad! If there were a dad, he would understand. Olga won't understand. Olga will be angry or, what good, cry. And this is even worse. Zhenya herself knew how to cry. But at the sight of Olga's tears, she always wanted to climb a telegraph pole, a tall tree or a roof chimney.

For courage, Zhenya bathed herself and quietly went to find her dacha.

When she went up the porch, Olga stood in the kitchen and bred a primus stove. Hearing footsteps, Olga turned around and silently gazed at Zhenya with hostility.

“Olya, hello!” Stopping on the top step and trying to smile, Zhenya said. “Olya, won't you swear?

- I will! - Olga answered without taking her eyes off her sister.

- Well, swear, - Zhenya obediently agreed. - Such, you know, a strange case, such an extraordinary adventure! Olya, I beg you, don't pull your eyebrows, it's okay, I just lost the key to the apartment, I didn't send a telegram to my dad ...

Zhenya closed her eyes and took a deep breath, intending to blurt out everything at once. But then the gate in front of the house swung open with a crash. A shaggy goat jumped into the courtyard, all covered in thorns, and, drooping its horns low, rushed into the depths of the garden. And behind her, with a cry, the barefoot girl, already familiar to Zhenya, swept past.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Zhenya interrupted the dangerous conversation and rushed into the garden to drive out the goat. She caught up with the girl when she, breathing heavily, held the goat by the horns.

“Girl, have you lost anything?” The girl asked Zhenya quickly through clenched teeth, not ceasing to beat the goat with kicks.

- No, - Zhenya did not understand.

- Whose is this? Not yours? ”And the girl showed her the key to the Moscow apartment.

- Mine, - Zhenya answered in a whisper, looking timidly towards the terrace.

“Take the key, the note and the receipt, and the telegram has already been sent,” the girl muttered just as quickly and through clenched teeth.

And, thrusting a paper roll into Zhenya's hand, she hit the goat with her fist.

The goat galloped to the gate, and the barefoot girl followed right through the thorns, through the nettles, like a shadow. And at once they disappeared behind the gate.

Squeezing her shoulders, as if they had beaten her and not the goat, Zhenya opened the package:

“This is the key. This is a telegraph receipt. So someone sent a telegram to my father. But who? Aha, here's a note! What is it?"

This note read in large blue pencil:

“Girl, don't be afraid of anyone at home. Everything is all right, and no one will learn anything from me. " And below was the signature: "Timur".

As if spellbound, Zhenya quietly thrust the note into her pocket. Then she straightened her shoulders and calmly went to Olga.

Olga was still standing there, near the unlit primus, and tears had already appeared in her eyes.

“Olya!” Zhenya exclaimed sadly then. “I was joking. Why are you angry with me? I cleaned the whole apartment, I wiped the windows, I tried, I washed all the rags, washed all the floors. Here's the key, here's the receipt from Dad's telegram. And I'd rather give you a kiss. You know how I love you! Do you want me to jump off the roof into the nettles for you?

And, without waiting for Olga to answer anything, Zhenya threw herself on her neck.

- Yes ... but I was worried, - Olga spoke with despair. Zhenya, I have kerosene on my hands! Zhenya, pour better milk and put the pot on the kerosene stove!

- I ... I can't be joking, - muttered Zhenya at the time when Olga stood near the washstand.

She poured a pot of milk onto a kerosene stove, touched the note in her pocket and asked:

- Olya, is there a god?

- No, - Olga answered and put her head under the sink.

- Who is there?

- Leave me alone! - Olga answered with annoyance. - There is no one!

Zhenya paused and asked again:

- Olya, who is Timur?

- This is not a god, this is one such king, - Olga reluctantly answered, soaping her face and hands, - evil, lame, from an average story.

- And if not a king, not evil and not of the average, then who?

- Then I don’t know. Leave me alone! And what was Timur for you?

- And the fact that, it seems to me, I really love this person.

“Whom?” And Olga, bewildered, raised her face covered with soapy foam. Wait, dad will come and he will figure out your love.

“Well, dad!” Zhenya exclaimed mournfully, with pathos. “If he comes, it won't be for long. And he, of course, will not offend a lonely and defenseless person.

“Is that you lonely and defenseless?” Olga asked incredulously.

Then Zhenya lowered her head and, looking at her face, reflected in the cylinder of a nickel-plated teapot, proudly and without hesitation, answered:

- To dad. Only. Into it. One. And no one else in the world.

An elderly gentleman, Dr. FG Kolokolchikov, was sitting in his garden fixing the clock on the wall.

His grandson Kolya stood before him with a sad expression on his face.

It was believed that he helped his grandfather in his work. In fact, for an hour now, he had been holding a screwdriver in his hand, waiting for his grandfather to need this tool.

But the steel coil spring that had to be driven into place was stubborn, and Grandpa was patient. And it seemed that there would be no end to this expectation. It was a shame, especially since the swirling head of Sima Simakov, a very quick and knowledgeable man, had already been protruding from behind the neighboring fence several times. And this Sima Simakov with his tongue, head and hands gave Kolya signs, so strange and mysterious that even Kolya's five-year-old sister Tatyanka, who, sitting under a linden tree, concentratedly trying to push a burdock into the mouth of a lazy dog, suddenly screamed and pulled grandfather by the trouser leg, after which Sima Simakov's head instantly disappeared.

Finally, the spring fell into place.

- A man must work, - raising his damp forehead and addressing Kolya, the gray-haired gentleman FG Kolokolchikov said instructively. Give me the screwdriver and take the pliers. Labor ennobles a person. You just do not have enough spiritual nobility. For example, yesterday you ate four servings of ice cream, and with younger sister did not share.

“She’s lying, shameless!” The offended Kolya exclaimed, casting an angry glance at Tatyanka. “Three times I gave her a bite twice. She went to complain about me, and on the way she pulled four kopecks from my mother's table.

“And you climbed the rope from the window at night,” Tatyanka coldly blurted out without turning her head. “You have a lantern under your pillow. And yesterday some bully threw a stone into our bedroom. Throw and whistle, throw and whistle.

Kolya Kolokolchikov captured the spirit at these insolent words of the shameless Tatyanka. A shiver ran through my body from head to toe. But fortunately, the grandfather, busy with work, did not pay attention to such a dangerous slander or simply did not hear it. By the way, a milkmaid came into the garden with cans and, measuring out milk with mugs, began to complain:

- And at me, father Fyodor Grigorievich, the crooks at night almost knocked the oak tub out of the yard. And today people say that at a little light on my roof they saw two people: they were sitting on a chimney, damned, and their legs were swinging.

- That is, like on a pipe? For what purpose is this, excuse me? - the astonished gentleman began to ask.

But then there was a clang and clang from the side of the hen house. The screwdriver in the gray-haired gentleman's hand trembled, and the stubborn spring, flying out of its nest, clanged with a squeal against the iron roof. Everyone, even Tatyanka, even a lazy dog, turned around at once, not understanding where the ringing came from and what was the matter. And Kolya Kolokolchikov, without saying a word, darted like a hare through the carrot beds and disappeared behind the fence.

He stopped near a cow shed, from the inside of which, just as from a hen house, sharp sounds were heard, as if someone were hitting a piece of steel rail with a kettlebell. It was here that he ran into Sima Simakov, who excitedly asked:

“Listen… I don’t understand. What's that? .. Anxiety?

- Well no! This appears to be the number one common call sign.

They jumped over the fence, dived into the hole in the fence of the park. Here the broad-shouldered, strong little boy Geika ran into them. Vasily Ladygin jumped up next. Another and someone else. And silently, nimbly, with only their familiar moves, they rushed to some goal, talking briefly on the run:

- Is it anxiety?

- Well no! This is the number one common callsign form.

- What's the call sign? This is not "three - stop", "three - stop". It’s some idiot who puts the wheel ten strokes in a row.

- But let's see!

- Yeah, check it out!

- Forward! Lightning!

Meanwhile, in the room of the same dacha where Zhenya spent the night, there was a tall, dark-haired boy of about thirteen. He wore light black trousers and a navy blue tank top with an embroidered red star.

A gray-haired, shaggy old man approached him. His linen shirt was poor. Wide trousers are in patches. A rough piece of wood was strapped to the knee of his left leg with straps. In one hand he held a note, the other clutched an old, tattered revolver.

- “Girl, when you leave, slam the door tightly,” the old man read mockingly.

“One girl I know,” the little boy answered reluctantly. “She was detained by a dog without me.

“You’re lying!” The old man was angry. “If she were familiar to you, then here, in the note, you would call her by her name.

- When I wrote, I did not know. And now I know her.

- Did not know. And you left her alone in the morning ... in the apartment? You, my friend, are sick, and you must be sent insane. This rubbish smashed the mirror, smashed the ashtray. Well, it's good that the revolver was loaded with blanks. And if there were live cartridges in it?

“But, uncle… you don’t have live ammunition, because your enemies have guns and sabers… just wooden.

The old man seemed to be smiling. However, shaking his shaggy head, he sternly said:

- Look! I notice everything. Your business, as I see it, is dark, and no matter how I send you back to your mother for them.

Tapping with a piece of wood, the old man went up the stairs. When he disappeared, the boy jumped up, grabbed the dog running into the room by the paws and kissed it on the face.

- Yeah, Rita! You and I got caught. Nothing, he's kind today. He will sing now.

And for sure. Coughing was heard from upstairs from the room. Then a sort of tra-la-la! .. And, finally, the low baritone began to sing:

I have not slept for the third night, it seems to me all the same

A secret movement in gloomy silence ...

“Stop, you crazy dog!” Timur shouted. “Why are you tearing my pants and where are you pulling me?

Suddenly he slammed the door, which led upstairs to his uncle, with a noise, and through the corridor, following the dog, he jumped out onto the veranda.

In the corner of the veranda, near a small telephone, a bronze bell tied to a rope twitched, jumped and pounded against the wall.

The boy held it in his hand, wrapped the string around a nail. Now the flinching twine is loose — must have snapped somewhere. Then, surprised and angry, he grabbed the phone.

An hour earlier than all this happened, Olga was sitting at the table. There was a physics textbook in front of her. Zhenya came in and took out a bottle of iodine.

- Zhenya, - Olga asked discontentedly, - where did you get a scratch on your shoulder?

- And I was walking, - Zhenya answered nonchalantly, - and there was something prickly or sharp in the way. And so it happened.

- Why is it that nothing prickly or sharp stands in my way? Olga mimicked her.

- Not true! You have a math exam on your way. It is both prickly and sharp. Here, look, you will cut yourself off! .. Olga, do not go to the engineer, go to the doctor, - Zhenya spoke up, handing Olga a table mirror. - Well, look: what kind of engineer are you? An engineer should be - here ... here ... and here ... (She made three energetic grimaces.) And you - here ... here ... and here ... - Then Zhenya turned her eyes, raised her eyebrows and smiled very vaguely.

“Stupid!” Olga said, hugging her, kissing her and gently pushing her away.

- Go away, Zhenya, and don't bother. You'd better run to the well for water.

Zhenya took an apple from a plate, went to the corner, stood by the window, then unbuttoned the accordion case and spoke:

- You know, Olya! Some uncle is coming up to me today. So, apparently wow - blond, in a white suit, and asks: "Girl, what's your name?" I say: "Zhenya ..."

- Zhenya, don't bother and don't touch the instrument, - Olga said without turning around and without looking up from the book.

- "And your sister, - taking out the accordion, continued Zhenya, - it seems, her name is Olga?"

“Zhenka, don't bother and don't touch the instrument!” Olga repeated, involuntarily listening.

“Very,” he says, “your sister plays well. Does she want to study at the conservatory? " (Zhenya took out an accordion and threw the belt over her shoulder.) “No,” I tell him, “she is already studying in a reinforced concrete specialty.” And then he says:

"A-ah!" (Here Zhenya pressed one key.) And I say to him: "Be-eh!" (Here Zhenya pressed another key.)

- You wretched girl! Put the instrument back in place! ”Olga shouted, jumping up.“ Who allows you to enter into conversations with some uncles?

- Well, I'll put it, - Zhenya was offended. - I didn't join. It was he who entered. I wanted to tell you further, but now I won't. Wait, dad will come, he will show you!

- To me? It will show you. You prevent me from studying.

“No, you!” Zhenya responded, grabbing an empty bucket, already from the porch.

- I'll tell him how you chase me a hundred times a day for kerosene, then for soap, then for water! I'm not a truck, a horse, or a tractor.

She brought water, put the bucket on the bench, but since Olga, without paying attention to it, was sitting, bending over a book, offended Zhenya went into the garden.

Crawling out onto the lawn in front of the old two-story shed, Zhenya took a slingshot from her pocket and, pulling on an elastic band, launched a small cardboard parachutist into the sky.

Taking off upside down, the parachutist turned over. A blue paper dome opened above him, but then the wind blew harder, the parachutist was dragged to the side, and he disappeared behind the dark attic window of the shed.

Crash! The cardboard man had to be rescued. Zhenya walked around the shed, through the leaky roof of which thin rope wires ran in all directions. She dragged the rotten staircase to the window and, climbing up it, jumped to the floor of the attic.

Very strange! This attic was inhabited. On the wall hung skeins of rope, a lantern, two crossed signal flags and a map of the village, all lined with incomprehensible signs. In the corner lay an armful of sacking straw. There was an overturned plywood box. A large steering wheel protruded from the leaky mossy roof. A homemade telephone hung over the wheel.

Zhenya looked through the crack. Before her, like the waves of the sea, the foliage of the dense gardens swayed. Doves were playing in the sky. And then Zhenya decided: let the pigeons be seagulls, this old barn with its ropes, lanterns and flags - a big ship. She herself will be the captain.

She felt cheerful. She turned the steering wheel. The tight rope wires trembled and hummed. The wind rustled and drove the green waves. And it seemed to her that this was her shed ship slowly and calmly unfolding along the waves.

- Left rudder aboard! - Zhenya commanded loudly and leaned harder on the heavy wheel.

Breaking through the cracks in the roof, narrow, direct rays of the sun fell on her face and dress. But Zhenya realized that it was the enemy ships groping for her with their searchlights, and she decided to give them a fight.

She steered the squeaky wheel with power, maneuvering left and right, and shouting command words imperiously.

But now the sharp, direct beams of the searchlight faded and went out. And this, of course, did not set the sun behind a cloud. This defeated enemy squadron was sinking.

The fight was over. With a dusty hand, Zhenya wiped her forehead, and suddenly the phone rang on the wall. Zhenya did not expect this; she thought this phone was just a toy. She felt uneasy. She picked up the phone.

- Hello! Hello! Answer. What donkey cuts wires and gives signals, stupid and incomprehensible?

- It's not a donkey, - muttered a puzzled Zhenya. - It's me Zhenya!

“Crazy girl!” The same voice shouted sharply and almost frightened. “Leave the steering wheel and run away. Now ... people will come rushing in, and they will beat you.

Zhenya hung up, but it was too late. Someone's head appeared in the light: it was Geika, followed by Sima Simakov, Kolya Kolokolchikov, and more boys climbed after him.

“Who are you?” Zhenya asked in fear, stepping back from the window. “Go away! .. This is our garden. I didn't invite you here.

But shoulder to shoulder, in a dense wall, the guys silently walked towards Zhenya. And, finding herself pressed against the corner, Zhenya screamed.

At the same moment, another shadow flashed through the gap. They all turned around and parted. And before Zhenya stood a tall, dark-haired boy in a blue tank top with a red star embroidered on his chest.

“Hush, Zhenya!” He said loudly. “No need to shout. Nobody will touch you. Are we familiar. I am Timur.

“Are you Timur ?!” Zhenya exclaimed incredulously, opening wide eyes full of tears. “Did you cover me with a sheet at night? Did you leave a note on my desk? You sent Dad a telegram to the front, and you sent me a key and a receipt? But why? For what? Where do you know me from?

Then he went up to her, took her hand and answered:

- But stay with us! Sit down and listen, and then everything will be clear to you.

On the straw covered with bags around Timur, who spread out a map of the village in front of him, the guys settled down.

At the opening above the dormer, an observer hung on a rope swing. A lace with rumpled theatrical binoculars was slung over his neck.

Zhenya sat not far from Timur and listened cautiously and looked closely at everything that was happening at the meeting of this unknown headquarters. Timur said:

- Tomorrow, at dawn, while people are sleeping, Kolokolchikov and I will fix the wires cut by her (he pointed to Zhenya).

“He'll sleep,” the big-headed Geik, dressed in a sailor's vest, put in gloomily. “He wakes up only for breakfast and dinner.

“Slander!” Cried Kolya Kolokolchikov, jumping up and stammering. “I get up with the first ray of the sun.

“I don’t know which ray is the first, which is the second, but it will oversleep,” Geika stubbornly continued.

Here, an observer dangling on ropes whistled. The guys jumped up.

A horse-artillery battalion rushed along the road in clouds of dust. Mighty horses, dressed in belts and iron, quickly dragged behind them green ammunition boxes and cannons covered with gray covers.

The weather-beaten, tanned riders, without swaying in the saddle, famously turned around the corner, and one battery after another hid in the grove. The division raced off.

- They went to the station, went for loading, - Kolya Kolokolchikov explained importantly. - I can see by their uniforms: when they jump to the training, when to the parade, and when and where else.

“You see - and be quiet!” Geika stopped him. “We ourselves have eyes. You guys know, this chatterbox wants to escape to the Red Army!

- It is impossible, - Timur intervened. - This idea is completely empty.

“How is it possible?” Kolya asked, blushing. “Why did the boys always run to the front before?

- That earlier! And now all the chiefs and commanders have been ordered to chase our brother out of there by the neck.

“How about your neck?” Kolya Kolokolchikov exclaimed, flushing and blushing even more.

- Yes, that's it! - And Timur sighed. - These are theirs! Now guys, let's get down to business. All sat down in their places.

“In the garden of house number thirty-four on Krivoy Lane, unknown boys shaken off an apple tree,” Kolya Kolokolchikov said resentfully. “They broke two branches and crumpled a flower bed.

“Whose house?” And Timur glanced into the oilcloth notebook. “The house of the Red Army soldier Kryukov. Who is our former specialist in foreign orchards and apple trees here?

- Who could have done it?

- It worked Mishka Kvakin and his assistant, called "Figure". Apple-tree - michurinka, variety "gold filling", and, of course, taken to choose from.

“Again and again Kvakin!” Timur pondered. “Geika! Did you have a conversation with him?

- So what?

- Gave him two times in the neck.

- Well, he gave me two times too.

- Eck you have everything - "gave" and "shoved" ... But there is no sense. Okay! We will deal specifically with Kvakin. Let's move on.

“In house number twenty-five, the milkmaids took their son into the cavalry of the old woman,” someone said from the corner.

“That's enough!” And Timur shook his head reproachfully. Who put it? Bells, are you?

- So, why do you have the upper left ray of the star crooked, like a leech? Undertook to do - do well. People will come - they will laugh. Let's move on.

Sima Simakov jumped up and began to frequent, confidently, without hesitation:

- In the house number fifty-four on Pushkarevaya street, the goat disappeared. I walk, I see - the old woman is beating the girl. I shout: "Auntie, it is illegal to beat!" She says: “The goat is missing. Oh, damn you! "-" But where did she disappear? "

- Wait a minute! Whose house?

- House of the Red Army soldier Pavel Guryev. The girl is his daughter, her name is Nyurkoy. Her grandmother was beating. I don’t know what the name is. The goat is gray, black from the back. My name is Manka.

“Find the goat!” Ordered Timur. “A team of four will go. You ... you and you. Okay, guys?

“There’s a girl crying in house number twenty-two,” Geika said, as if reluctantly.

- Why is she crying?

- Asked - does not speak.

- You would have asked better. Maybe someone beat her ... hurt her?

- Asked - does not speak.

- Is the girl big?

- Four years.

- Here's another trouble! If only a man ... and then - four years! Wait, whose house is this?

- House of Lieutenant Pavlov. The one who was recently killed at the border.

- “He asked, but he doesn’t speak,” Timur mimicked Geyka in distress. He frowned, thought. - Okay ... It's me. Don't get involved in this matter.

“Mishka Kvakin has appeared on the horizon!” The observer announced loudly.

- Goes on the other side of the street. Eating an apple. Timur! Send a command: let them give him a poke or a neck!

- Do not. Everyone, stay where you are. I will be back soon.

He jumped from the window onto the stairs and disappeared into the bushes. And the observer reported again:

- At the gate, in my field of vision, an unknown girl, nice looking, stands with a jug and buys milk. This is probably the owner of the dacha.

“Is this your sister?” Kolya Kolokolchikov asked, pulling Zhenya by the sleeve. And, having received no answer, he importantly and offendedly warned: “Look, don’t try to shout to her from here.

“Sit down!” Zhenya answered him mockingly, pulling out his sleeve. “You are also my boss ...

- Don't bother with her, - Geika teased Kolya, - otherwise she will beat you up.

- Me? - Kolya was offended. - She has what? Claws? And I have muscles. Here ... hand, foot!

- She will beat you with hand and leg. Guys, be careful! Timur approaches Kvakin.

Lightly waving the plucked branch, Timur walked across the path to Kvakin. Noticing this, Kvakin stopped. His flat face showed neither surprise nor fear.

“Great, commissar!” He cocked his head to one side, he said quietly. “Where are you in such a hurry?

“Great, chieftain!” Timur answered in tone. “To meet you.

- Glad to the guest, but nothing to treat. Is this this? - He put his hand in his bosom and handed Timur an apple.

- Stolen? - asked Timur, biting an apple.

- They are the most, - explained Kvakin. - The sort of "gold filling". But the trouble is: there is still no real ripeness.

“Sour!” Timur said, throwing the apple. “Listen: have you seen such a sign on the fence of house number thirty-four?” And Timur pointed to a star embroidered on his blue sleeveless jacket.

- Well, I saw, - Kvakin warned himself. - I, brother, see everything day and night.

- So: if you see such a sign anywhere during the day or at night, you run away from this place, as if you were scalded with boiling water.

- Oh, Commissioner! How hot you are! ”Kvakin said drawing out his words. - Enough, let's talk!

- Oh, chieftain, how stubborn you are, - Timur answered without raising his voice. - Now remember yourself and tell the whole gang that this conversation is our last with you.

No one from the outside would have thought that these are enemies talking, and not two warm friends. And so Olga, who was holding a jug in her hands, asked the milkmaid who this boy was, who was conferring about something with the bully Kvakin.

“I don’t know,” the milkmaid answered with a heart. “Probably the same hooligan and disgrace. He's still hanging around your house. Look, dear, as if they didn’t beat your little sister.

Anxiety gripped Olga. She glanced with hatred at the two boys, went to the terrace, put the jug down, locked the door and went out into the street to look for Zhenya, who had not shown her eyes home for two hours.

Returning to the attic, Timur told the guys about his meeting. It was decided to send a written ultimatum to the whole gang tomorrow.

The guys silently jumped from the attic and through the holes in the fences, or even right over the fences, scattered to their homes in different directions. Timur went up to Zhenya.

- Well? - he asked - Now you understand everything?

- That's it, - Zhenya answered, - just not very much yet. You explain to me easier.

- And then come down and follow me. Your sister is not home anyway.

When they got down from the attic, Timur knocked down the stairs.

It was already dark, but Zhenya trustingly followed him.

They stopped at the house where the old milkmaid lived. Timur looked around. There were no people nearby. He took a lead tube of oil paint from his pocket and walked over to the gate, where a star was drawn, the upper left beam of which really curved like a leech.

Confidently, he straightened the rays, sharpened and straightened them.

“Tell me why?” Zhenya asked him. “You explain to me more simply: what does it all mean?

Timur slipped the tube into his pocket. He tore off a burdock leaf, wiped his painted finger and, looking into Zhenya's face, said:

- And this means that from this house a man went to the Red Army. And since that time, this house has been under our protection and protection. Do you have a father in the army?

- Yes! - Zhenya answered with excitement and pride. - He is the commander.

- So, you are under our protection and protection too.

They stopped in front of the gate of another dacha. And here a star was drawn on the fence. But its direct light rays were surrounded by a wide black border.

“Here!” Said Timur. “And from this house a man went to the Red Army. But he's gone. This is the dacha of Lieutenant Pavlov, who was recently killed at the border. His wife and that little girl live here, from whom the kind Geika never got it, which is why she often cries. And if it happens to you, then do something good to her, Zhenya.

He said it all very simply, but chills ran down Zhenya's chest and arms, and the evening was warm and even stifling.

She was silent, bowing her head. And just to say something, she asked:

- Is Geika kind?

- Yes, - Timur answered. - He is the son of a sailor, a sailor. He often scolds the kid and the braggart Kolokolchikov, but he himself always and everywhere stands up for him.
A shout, harsh and even angry, made them turn around. Olga stood nearby. Zhenya touched Timur's hand: she wanted to let him down and introduce Olga to him. But a new shout, stern and cold, forced her to refuse it.

Nodding her head apologetically to Timur and shrugging her shoulders in bewilderment, she went to Olga.

- But, Olya, - Zhenya muttered, - what's wrong with you?

- I forbid you to approach this boy, - Olga firmly repeated. - You are thirteen, I am eighteen. I'm your sister ... I'm older. And when dad left, he told me ...

“But, Olya, you don't understand anything, nothing!” Zhenya exclaimed in despair. She shuddered. She wanted to explain, to justify herself. But she couldn't. She had no right. And, with a wave of her hand, she did not say another word to her sister.

Immediately she went to bed. But I could not sleep for a long time. And when I fell asleep, I never heard how they knocked on the window at night and sent a telegram from my father.

It was dawning. The shepherd's wooden horn sang. The old woman milkmaid opened the gate and drove the cow to the herd. Before she had time to turn the corner, five boys jumped out from behind an acacia bush, trying not to rattle with empty buckets, and they rushed to the well.

- Grab it!

Pouring cold water bare feet, the boys rushed into the yard, threw buckets into an oak tub and, without stopping, rushed back to the well.

Timur ran up to the drenched Sime Simakov, who was without respite tossing the lever of the well pump, and asked:

- Have you seen Kolokolchikov here? No? So he slept. Hurry up, hurry up! The old woman will go back now.

Finding himself in the garden in front of the Kolokolchikovs' dacha, Timur stood under a tree and whistled. Without waiting for an answer, he climbed a tree and looked into the room. From the tree, he could only see half of the bed pulled up to the windowsill and the legs wrapped in a blanket.

Timur threw a piece of bark on the bed and quietly called:

- Kolya, get up! Kolka!

The sleeper did not move. Then Timur took out a knife, cut off a long rod, sharpened a knot at the end, threw the rod over the window sill and, having hooked the blanket with a knot, pulled it towards himself.

A light blanket crawled through the windowsill. There was a hoarse, startled cry in the room. Goggling his sleepy eyes, a gray-haired gentleman jumped out of bed in underwear and, grabbing the crawling blanket with his hand, he ran to the window.

Finding himself face to face with the venerable old man, Timur at once flew down from the tree.

And the gray-haired gentleman, throwing the reclaimed blanket on the bed, pulled off the double-barreled gun from the wall, hastily put on his glasses and, putting the gun out of the window with the muzzle towards him, closed his eyes and fired.

... Only at the well the frightened Timur stopped. An error occurred. He mistook the sleeping gentleman for Kolya, and the gray-haired gentleman, of course, mistook him for a swindler.

Then Timur saw that the old woman milkmaid with a yoke and buckets was coming out of the gate to fetch water. He ducked behind the acacia and watched.

Returning from the well, the old woman lifted the bucket, threw it into the barrel and immediately jumped back, because the water splashed out with a noise and splashes from the barrel, already filled to the brim, right under her feet.

Sighing, perplexed and looking around, the old woman walked around the barrel. She dropped her hand into the water and brought it to her nose. Then she ran to the porch to check if the lock at the door was intact. And finally, not knowing what to think, she began to knock on her neighbor's window.

Timur laughed and emerged from his ambush. I had to hurry. The sun was already rising. Kolya Kolokolchikov did not appear, and the wires were still not fixed.

... Making his way to the barn, Timur looked through the open window overlooking the garden.

At the table near the bed, Zhenya was sitting in shorts and a T-shirt and, impatiently pushing back her hair that had slipped onto her forehead, was writing something.

Seeing Timur, she was not frightened or even surprised. She only shook her finger at him so that he would not wake Olga, put the unfinished letter in the drawer and tiptoed out of the room.

Here, having learned from Timur what a misfortune had happened to him today, she forgot all Olga's instructions and willingly volunteered to help him establish the broken wires by herself.

When the work was finished and Timur was already standing on the other side of the fence, Zhenya told him:

“I don’t know why, but my sister hates you very much.

- Well, - Timur answered sadly, - and my uncle you too!

He wanted to leave, but she stopped him:

- Wait, comb your hair. You are very shaggy today.

She took out the comb, handed it to Timur, and immediately behind, from the window, Olga shouted indignantly:

- Zhenya! What are you doing?

The sisters stood on the terrace.

“I don’t choose your acquaintances,” Zhenya defended herself in despair. “Which ones? Very simple. In white suits. "Oh, how your sister plays beautifully!" Perfectly! You'd better hear how she swears beautifully. Here look! I'm already writing about everything to dad.

- Eugene! This boy is a bully, and you are stupid, ”Olga said coldly, trying to appear calm. we will leave here for Moscow. Do you know that my word is hard?

“Yes… a tormentor!” Zhenya answered with tears. “I know that.

“Now take it and read it.” Olga put the telegram she had received on the table and left.

The telegram read:

"One of these days I will be passing through Moscow for a few hours. I will telegraph additionally to the Papa point."

Zhenya wiped away her tears, put the telegram to her lips and muttered softly:

- Dad, come soon! Dad! It is very difficult for me, your Zhenya.

Two loads of firewood were brought to the courtyard of the house where the goat disappeared and where the grandmother lived, who beat the lively girl Nyurka.

Scolding the careless carters who piled firewood at random, groaning and groaning, the grandmother began to stack the woodpile. But this work was beyond her power. Coughing, she sat down on the step, caught her breath, took a watering can and went into the garden. Now only Nyurki's three-year-old brother is left in the yard - a man, apparently energetic and hardworking, because as soon as the grandmother disappeared, he picked up a stick and began pounding it on the bench and on the trough turned upside down.

Then Sima Simakov, who had just hunted for a runaway goat, which was galloping through bushes and ravines no worse than an Indian tiger, left one of his team at the edge, and with four others rushed into the yard with four others.

He thrust a handful of strawberries into the kid's mouth, thrust a shiny feather from the jackdaw's wing into his hands, and the four of them rushed to put the wood in the woodpile.

Sima Simakov himself rushed around along the fence in order to delay the grandmother in the garden for this time. Stopping at the fence, near the place where cherries and apple trees adjoined it closely, Sima looked through the crack.

The grandmother gathered cucumbers into the hem and was going to go into the yard.

Sima Simakov knocked softly on the fence boards.

The grandmother was on the alert. Then Sima picked up a stick and began to wiggle the branches of the apple tree with it.

It immediately seemed to Grandma that someone was quietly climbing over the fence for apples. She poured cucumbers on the border, pulled out a large bunch of nettles, crept up and hid by the fence.

Sima Simakov looked into the crack again, but now he did not see the grandma. Worried, he jumped up, grabbed the edge of the fence and carefully began to pull himself up. But at the same time the grandmother with a triumphant cry jumped out of her ambush and deftly lashed Sima Simakov on the hands with nettles. Waving his burned hands, Sima rushed to the gate, from where the four, who had finished their work, were already running out.

There was again only one baby in the yard. He picked up a chip from the ground, put it on the edge of the woodpile, then dragged a piece of birch bark there.

For this occupation, his grandmother who returned from the garden caught him. Opening her eyes, she stopped in front of a neatly folded woodpile and asked:

- Who's working here without me?

The kid, laying the birch bark in a woodpile, answered importantly:

- And you, grandmother, do not see - it’s me working.

A milkmaid entered the courtyard, and both old women excitedly began to discuss these strange incidents with water and firewood. They tried to get an answer from the baby, however, they achieved little. He explained to them that people rushed out of the gate, thrust sweet strawberries into his mouth, gave him a feather and promised to catch him a hare with two ears and four legs. And then they left the wood and sped it up again. Nyurka entered the gate.

- Nyurka, - asked her grandmother, - have you seen who came to our yard now?

“I was looking for a goat,” Nyurka answered sadly.

“Stole!” The grandmother complained bitterly to the milkmaid. “And what a goat it was! Well, a dove, not a goat. Pigeon!

- Dove, - moving away from the grandmother, Nyurka snapped. Doves have no horns.

- Shut up, Nyurka! Be quiet, you silly idiot! ”Cried the grandmother.“ It, of course, was a goat with character. And I wanted to sell it, the little goat. And now my darling is gone.

The gate swung open with a creak. With its horns lowered, a goat ran into the courtyard and rushed straight at the milkmaid.

Grabbing a heavy can, the milkmaid jumped up to the porch with a squeal, and the goat, hitting the wall with its horns, stopped.

And then everyone saw that a plywood poster was firmly fastened to the horns of the goat, on which it was drawn in large size:

I'm a goat goat

Thunderstorm for all people

Who will beat Nyurku,

That will live badly.

And on the corner behind the fence, happy children laughed.

Sticking a stick into the ground, stamping around it, dancing, Sima Simakov proudly sang:

We are not a gang or a gang

Not a band of daredevils,

We are a fun team

Young pioneers

And like a flock of swifts, the guys rushed away swiftly and noiselessly.

… There was still a lot of work for today, but, most importantly, now it was necessary to draw up and send an ultimatum to Mishka Kvakin.

Nobody knew how the ultimatums were drawn up, and Timur asked his uncle about it.

He explained to him that each country writes an ultimatum in its own way, but at the end, for politeness, it is supposed to attribute:

"Accept, Mr. Minister, the assurance of the utmost respect for you."

Then the ultimatum is delivered to the ruler of the hostile power through an accredited ambassador.

But neither Timur nor his team liked this business. First, they did not want to convey any respect to the hooligan Kvakin; secondly, they had neither a permanent ambassador, nor even an envoy for this gang. And, after consulting, they decided to send a simpler ultimatum, in the manner of that message of the Cossacks to Turkish Sultan, which everyone saw in the picture when he read about how the brave Cossacks fought against the Turks, Tatars and Lyakhs.

Behind the gray gates with a black and red star, in the shady garden of the house that stood opposite the dacha where Olga and Zhenya lived, a little blonde girl was walking along the sandy alley. Her mother, a young, beautiful woman, but with a sad and tired face, was sitting in a rocking chair near the window, on which stood a magnificent bouquet of wild flowers. Before her lay a pile of printed telegrams and letters - from relatives and from friends, acquaintances and strangers. These letters and telegrams were warm and affectionate. They sounded from afar, like a forest echo, which does not call the traveler anywhere, promises nothing and still encourages and prompts him that people are close and in dark forest he is not alone.

Holding the doll upside down, so that wooden hands and her hemp braids dragged along the sand, the blond girl stopped in front of the fence. A painted hare cut out of plywood was descending along the fence. He twitched his paw, strumming a drawn balalaika along the strings, and his face was sadly funny.

Delighted with such an inexplicable miracle, which, of course, has no equal in the world, the girl dropped the doll, went to the fence, and the kind hare obediently sank right into her arms. And after the hare, a crafty peeped out and happy face Zhenya.

The girl looked at Zhenya and asked:

- Are you playing with me?

- Yes with you. Do you want me to jump down to you?

“There are nettles here,” the girl warned, thinking, “And here I burned my hand yesterday.

“Nothing,” Zhenya said, jumping off the fence, “I'm not afraid. Show me what stinging nettle burned you yesterday? This one? Well, look: I pulled it out, threw it, trampled it under my feet and spat on it. Let's play with you: you keep the hare, and I'll take the doll.

Olga saw from the porch of the terrace how Zhenya was spinning around someone else's fence, but she did not want to interfere with her sister, because she was crying a lot this morning. But when Zhenya climbed the fence and jumped into a strange garden, Olga, worried, left the house, went to the gate and opened the gate. Zhenya and the little girl were already standing at the window, next to the woman, and she smiled when her daughter showed her how a sad funny hare was playing the balalaika.

From Zhenya's anxious face, the woman guessed that Olga, who had entered the garden, was unhappy.

“Don't be angry with her,” the woman said quietly to Olga. “She's just playing with my little girl. We have grief ... - The woman paused. - I'm crying, and she, - the woman pointed at her tiny daughter and quietly added: - but she doesn't even know that her father was recently killed at the border.

Now Olga was embarrassed, and Zhenya looked at her bitterly and reproachfully from afar.

“And I am alone,” the woman continued. “My mother is in the mountains, in the taiga, very far away, my brothers are in the army, there are no sisters.

She touched Zhenya by the shoulder and, pointing to the window, asked:

- Girl, this bouquet at night did not you put on my porch?

- No, - Zhenya answered quickly. - It's not me. But this is probably one of ours.

“Who?” And Olga looked at Zhenya blankly.

“I don’t know,” Zhenya said, frightened, “it’s not me. I know nothing. Look, people are coming here.

The noise of a car was heard outside the gate, and two pilot-commanders were walking along the path from the gate.

“This is for me,” the woman said. “Of course, they will again offer me to go to the Crimea, to the Caucasus, to a resort, to a sanatorium ...

Both commanders approached, put their hands on the caps, and, obviously, hearing her last words, the elder - the captain - said:

- Not to the Crimea, not to the Caucasus, not to a resort, not to a sanatorium. Did you want to see your mother? Your mother is leaving Irkutsk by train today. She was taken to Irkutsk by a special plane.

“By whom?” The woman exclaimed joyfully and confusedly. “By you?

- No, - answered the pilot-captain, - our and your comrades.

A little girl ran up, boldly looked at the newcomers, and it is clear that this blue uniform was well known to her.

- Mom, - she asked, - make me a swing, and I will fly back and forth, back and forth. Far, far away, like dad.

“Oh, don’t!” Her mother exclaimed, picking up and squeezing her daughter.

“No, don't fly as far ... as your dad.

On Malaya Ovrazhnaya, behind the chapel with peeling murals depicting harsh hairy elders and clean-shaven angels, to the right of the picture of the "doomsday" with cauldrons, resin and nimble devils, in a chamomile meadow, the guys from Mishka Kvakin's company were playing cards.

The players had no money, and they were cut to "poke", "click" and "revive the dead." The loser was blindfolded, laid with his back on the grass and given a candle in his hands, that is, a long stick. And with this stick he had to blindly fight off his good brothers, who, regretting the deceased, tried to bring him back to life, diligently fastening with nettles on his bare knees, calves and heels.

The game was in full swing when the sharp sound of a signal pipe sounded outside the fence.

It was outside the wall that the envoys from Timur's team were standing.

The headquarters trumpeter Kolya Kolokolchikov was holding a shining copper horn in his hand, and barefooted stern Geika held a wrapping paper plastic bag.

“What is this circus or a comedy?” The boy, whose name was Figura, asked, leaning over the fence. “Bear!” He shouted, turning around.

“I'm here,” Kvakin responded, climbing onto the fence. “Hey, Geika, great! What is that squishy thing with you?

“Take the package,” Geika said extending the ultimatum. “You have been given twenty-four hours for a reflection period. I'll come back for an answer tomorrow at the same time.

Offended by the fact that he was called a squishy, the headquarters trumpeter Kolya Kolokolchikov raised the bugle and, puffing out his cheeks, fiercely sounded the retreat. And without another word, under the curious glances of the boys scattered around the fence, both parliamentarians withdrew with dignity.

“What is this?” Kvakin asked, turning the package over and looking at the gaping children. I really don't understand anything, brothers! ..

He tore open the package and, without getting off the fence, began to read:

- “To the chieftain of the gang for cleaning other people's gardens, Mikhail Kvakin ...” This is for me, - Kvakin explained loudly. "This is for you," Kvakin explained to Figura with satisfaction. "They turned it up:" infamous "! This is something very noble, we could call a fool in a simpler way, "... as well as an ultimatum to all members of this shameful company." I don’t know what this is, ”Kvakin announced mockingly.“ Probably a curse or something like that.

- This is international word... They will beat them, '' Alyoshka, a boy with a shaven head, who was standing next to the Figura, explained.

“Oh, they would write like that!” Said Kvakin. “I am reading further. Point one: “In view of the fact that at night you raid the gardens of civilians, not sparing those houses on which our sign stands - a red star, and even those on which there is a star with a mourning black border, you cowardly scoundrels, we order ... "

“Look how the dogs are swearing!” Kvakin continued, embarrassed, but trying to smile. “And what is the next syllable, what commas! Yes! “… We order: no later than tomorrow morning, Mikhail Kvakin and the vile figure of the Figure, appear at the place indicated to them by the messengers, having in their hands a list of all the members of your shameful gang. And in case of refusal, we reserve complete freedom action ".

“That is, in what sense is freedom?” Kvakin asked again. “We haven't locked them anywhere, it seems.

- This is such an international word. They will beat, - again explained the shaven-headed Alyoshka.

“Oh, then they would say so!” Kvakin said with annoyance. “It's a pity that Geika left; apparently he hadn't cried for a long time.

- He will not cry, - said the skinhead, - he has a brother - a sailor.

- His father was a sailor. He won't cry.

- What is it to you?

- And the fact that my uncle is a sailor too.

“That’s a fool — he’s done it!” Kvakin got angry. “Now my father, now my brother, now my uncle. And what is what is unknown. Grow your hair, Alyosha, otherwise the sun will bake the back of your head. And what are you humming there, Figure?

“The messengers must be caught tomorrow, and Timka and his company must be whipped,” the Figure, offended by the ultimatum, briefly and sullenly suggested.

On that and decided.

Moving into the shadow of the chapel and stopping together near the picture, where the nimble, muscular devils deftly dragged the howling and obstinate sinners into the heat, Kvakin asked the Figura:

- Listen, did you climb into that garden where the girl whose father was killed lives?

“So…” Kvakin muttered in annoyance, pointing his finger at the wall. - Of course, I don't give a damn about Timkin's signs, and I will always beat Timk ...

- All right, - the Figure agreed. - And why are you pointing your finger at the devils?

“Otherwise,” Kvakin replied, curling his lips, “that though you are a friend to me, Figure, you do not look like a person at all, but rather like this fat and filthy devil.

In the morning, the milkmaid did not find three regular customers at home. It was already too late to go to the bazaar, and, lifting the can on her shoulders, she set off to the apartments.

She walked for a long time to no avail, and finally stopped near the dacha where Timur lived.

Passing through the gate, the old woman cried out in a chant:

- Do you need milk, milk?

“Two mugs!” Came a deep voice in response. Throwing the can from her shoulder, the milkmaid turned around and saw a shaggy, lame-legged old man coming out of the bushes, dressed in rags, holding in his hand a crooked saber.

“I, father, I say, don’t you need some milk?” The milkmaid offered shyly and backed away. “What a serious person you are, my father! What are you doing, cutting the grass with a saber?

- Two mugs. The dishes are on the table, - the old man answered shortly and thrust his sword into the ground with his blade.

- You would, father, buy a scythe, - hastily pouring milk into a jug and cautiously looking at the old man, said the milkmaid. - Better throw the saber. Like a saber common man and you can scare to death.

“How much to pay?” The old man asked, thrusting his hand into the pocket of his wide trousers.

- Like people, - the milkmaid answered him. - For a ruble forty - only two eighty. I don't need too much.

The old man fumbled and took a large, ragged revolver from his pocket.

- I, father, then ... - picking up the can and hurriedly away, the milkmaid spoke. - You, my dear, don't work! - adding speed and without stopping to turn around, she continued. the gate, slammed it and shouted angrily from the street:

- In the hospital, you, the old devil, should be kept, and not allowed at will. Yes Yes! Locked in the hospital.

The old man shrugged his shoulders, thrust the three-note box he had taken out back into his pocket, and immediately hid the revolver behind his back, because an elderly gentleman, Doctor FG Kolokolchikov, entered the garden.

With a focused and serious face, leaning on a stick, with a straight, somewhat wooden gait, he walked along the sandy alley.

Seeing the wonderful old man, the gentleman coughed, adjusted his glasses and asked:

- Will you tell me, my dear, where I can find the owner of this dacha?

“I live in this dacha,” the old man replied.

- In that case, - putting his hand to straw hat, continued the gentleman, - you tell me: isn't a certain boy, Timur Garayev, related to you?

“Yes, we have to,” the old man replied. “This certain boy is my nephew.

“I am very sorry,” the gentleman began, clearing his throat and looking in bewilderment at the saber sticking out in the ground, “but your nephew made an attempt yesterday morning to rob our house.

- What ?! - the old man was amazed. - My Timur wanted to rob your house?

- Yes, imagine! - looking behind the old man's back and starting to worry, continued the gentleman. - He made an attempt during my sleep to kidnap the flannel blanket.

- Who? Did Timur rob you? Stole a bike blanket? - the old man was confused. And the hand hidden behind his back with the revolver involuntarily dropped.

Excitement seized the venerable gentleman, and, backing with dignity to the exit, he spoke:

- Of course, I would not argue, but facts ... facts! Your Majesty! I ask you, you do not approach me. I, of course, do not know what to attribute ... But your appearance, your strange behavior…

“Listen,” the old man said, walking toward the gentleman, “but all this is obviously a misunderstanding.

“Dear sir!” The gentleman cried without taking his eyes off the revolver and never ceasing to back away. “Our conversation is taking an undesirable and, I would say, unworthy direction for our age.

He jumped out of the gate and quickly walked away repeating:

- No, no, undesirable and unworthy direction ...

The old man approached the gate just at the moment when Olga, who was walking to bathe, caught up with the agitated gentleman.

Then suddenly the old man waved his hands and shouted to Olga to stop. But the gentleman, nimbly, like a goat, jumped over the ditch, grabbed Olga by the arm, and both of them instantly disappeared around the corner.

Then the old man burst out laughing. Excited and delighted, briskly tapping with his piece of wood, he sang:

And you will not understand

On a fast plane

As I expected you until the morning dawn.

He unfastened the belt at his knee, flung a wooden leg onto the grass, and, stripping off his wig and beard, rushed to the house.

Ten minutes later, the young and cheerful engineer Georgy Garayev ran off the porch, took the motorcycle out of the shed, shouted to the dog Rita to watch the house, pressed the starter and, jumping into the saddle, rushed to the river to look for Olga, frightened by him.

At eleven o'clock Geika and Kolya Kolokolchikov set off to answer the ultimatum.

- You walk smoothly, - Geika grumbled at Kolya. - You walk lightly, firmly. And you walk like a chicken gallops after a worm. And everything with you, brother, is good - and pants, and a shirt, and the whole uniform, but you still do not look. You, brother, do not be offended, I’m talking to you. Well, tell me: why do you go and lick your lips with your tongue? You stuff your tongue into your mouth, and let it lie there in its place ... And why did you appear? - asked Geika, seeing Sima Simakov jumping out of the way.

“Timur sent me to get in touch,” said Simakov. “It’s necessary, and you don’t understand anything. You have yours, and I have my own business. Kolya, let me blow the pipe. How important you are today! Geika, you fool! You go on business - you would put on boots, boots. Do ambassadors go barefoot? Well, okay, you go there, and I come here. Gop - gop, goodbye!

“A sort of balabon!” Geik shook his head. “He'll say a hundred words, or maybe four. Pipe, Nikolay, here is the fence.

“Give Mikhail Kvakin upstairs!” Geika ordered the boy leaning out from above.

“Come on on the right!” Kvakin shouted from behind the fence. “The gate is open for you on purpose.

“Don't go,” Kolya whispered, tugging Geiku's hand. “They will catch us and beat us.

“Is this all for two?” Geika asked haughtily. “Trumpet, Nikolay, louder. Our team is dear everywhere.

They passed through a rusty iron gate and found themselves in front of a group of children, in front of whom were Figura and Kvakin.

- Give the answer to the letter, - Geyka said firmly. Kvakin smiled, Figura frowned.

- Let's talk, - offered Kvakin. - Well, sit down, sit, where are you in a hurry?

- Give the answer to the letter, - Geyka repeated coldly. - And we will talk with you later.

And it was strange, incomprehensible: is he playing, is he joking, this straight, stocky boy in a sailor's vest, next to which is a small, already pale trumpeter? Or, squinting the strict grey eyes his own, barefoot, broad-shouldered, does he really demand an answer, feeling for himself both the right and the power?

- Here, take it, - holding out the paper, said Kvakin.

Geika unfolded the sheet. There was a roughly drawn figurine, under which stood a curse.

Calmly, without changing his face, Geika tore the paper. At the same moment he and Kolya were firmly grabbed by the shoulders and arms.

They didn't resist.

“For such ultimatums, you ought to fill your neck,” Kvakin said, approaching Geika. “But ... we are good people. Until the night we will lock you here, - he pointed to the chapel, - and at night we will clean the garden at number twenty-four baldly.

- This will not happen, - Geika answered evenly.

“No, it will!” The Figure shouted and hit Geika on the cheek.

“Hit it at least a hundred times,” Geika said, closing his eyes and opening his eyes again. “Kolya,” he muttered encouragingly, “don't be shy. I sense that today we will have a call sign in the form of number one common.

The prisoners were pushed into a small chapel with tightly closed iron shutters. Both doors were closed behind them, a bolt was pushed in and a wooden wedge was hammered into it.

“Well?” The Figure shouted, going up to the door and putting his hand to his mouth. “How is it now: in our opinion or in your opinion?

And from behind the door, dully, barely audible came:

- No, vagabonds, now, in your opinion, nothing will ever come of it.

The figure spat.

“His brother is a sailor,” the shaven-headed Alyoshka explained gloomily. “He and my uncle serve on the same ship.

- Well, - the Figure asked menacingly, - and who are you, the captain, or what?

- His hands are grabbed, and you beat him. Is that good?

“On to you too!” Figure got angry and hit Alyoshka backhand.

Then both boys rolled onto the grass. They were pulled by the arms, by the legs, separated ...

And no one looked up, where in the dense linden foliage that grew near the fence, Sima Simakov's face flashed.

With a screw, he slid to the ground. And straight, through other people's gardens, he rushed to Timur, to his own river.

Covering her head with a towel, Olga lay on the hot sand of the beach and read.

Zhenya was swimming. Suddenly, someone put their arms around her shoulders.

She turned around.

“Hello,” a tall, dark-eyed girl said to her. “I came from Timur. My name is Tanya, and I am also from his team. He regrets that you got hurt from your sister because of him. Your sister must be very angry?

- Let him not regret, - blushing, muttered Zhenya. - Olga is not angry at all, she has such a character. - And, throwing up her hands, Zhenya added with despair: - Well, sister, sister and sister! Wait a minute, dad will come ...

They came out of the water and climbed a steep bank, to the left of the sandy beach. Here they stumbled upon Nyurka.

- Girl, do you recognize me? - As always, quickly and through clenched teeth, she asked Zhenya. - Yes! I recognized you immediately. And there Timur! ”, Throwing off her dress, she pointed to the opposite bank strewn with children.“ I know who caught the goat for me, who laid firewood for us and who gave my brother strawberries. And I know you too, ”she turned to Tanya.“ You once sat in the garden and cried. Don't cry. What's the use? .. Gay! Sit down, devil, or I'll throw you into the river! ”She shouted at the goat tied to the bushes.“ Girls, let's jump into the water!

Zhenya and Tanya exchanged glances. She was very funny, this small, tanned, similar to the gypsy Nyurka.

Hand in hand, they walked to the very edge of the cliff, under which clear blue water splashed.

- Well, jumped?

- We jumped!

And at once they threw themselves into the water.

But the girls did not have time to emerge, as someone thrashed after them.

This is how he was - in sandals, shorts and a T-shirt - Sima Simakov rushed into the river with a run. And, brushing off his stuck hair, spitting and snorting, he swam with long saplings to the other side.

- Trouble, Zhenya! Trouble! ”He shouted, turning around.“ Geika and Kolya were ambushed!

Reading the book, Olga climbed the mountain. And where the steep path crossed the road, she was met by Georgy, who was standing near the motorcycle. They greeted each other.

- I was driving, - Georgy explained to her, - I look, you go. Let me, I think, I'll wait and give you a lift if it's on the way.

- Not true! - Olga did not believe. - You stood and waited for me on purpose.

- Well, that's right, - George agreed. - I wanted to lie, but it didn't work out. I must apologize to you for frightening you this morning. But the lame old man at the gate was me. I was preparing for the rehearsal in makeup. Sit down, I'll give you a lift.

Olga shook her head.

He put her bouquet on the book.

The bouquet was good. Olga blushed, was confused and ... threw him on the road.

George did not expect this.

“Listen!” He said sadly. “You play well, you sing, your eyes are straight and bright. I have not offended you in any way. But it seems to me that people do not act like you ... even in the most reinforced concrete specialty.

“Don't need flowers!” Olga herself, frightened by her act, answered guiltily. “I… and so, without flowers, I'll go with you.

She sat down on a leather cushion and the motorcycle flew along the road.

The road bifurcated, but, bypassing the one that turned to the village, the motorcycle burst out into the field.

- You turned the wrong way, - Olga shouted, - we need to go to the right!

- Here the road is better, - Georgy answered, - here the road is fun.

Again a turn, and they rushed through the noisy shady grove. The dog jumped out of the herd and barked, trying to catch up with them. But no! Where there! Far.

Like a heavy projectile, the oncoming buzzed truck... And when Georgy and Olga escaped from the raised clouds of dust, under the mountain they saw smoke, pipes, towers, glass and iron of some unfamiliar city.

“This is our factory!” Georgiy shouted to Olga. “Three years ago I went here to pick mushrooms and strawberries.

Almost without reducing the speed, the car turned sharply.

“Straight ahead!” Olga shouted warningly. “Let's just go straight home.

Suddenly the engine stopped and they stopped.

- Wait, - said Georgy, jumping off, - a small accident.

He put the car on the grass under the birch, took the key out of the bag and began to twist and tighten something.

“Whom do you play in your opera?” Olga asked, sitting down on the grass. “Why is your makeup so harsh and scary?

- I play an old man with a disability, - Georgy answered without ceasing to fiddle around the motorcycle. - He is a former partisan, and he is a little ... not himself. He lives near the border, and it seems to him that the enemies will outwit and deceive us. He is old, but he is careful. The Red Army men are young - they laugh, after the guard they play volleyball. The girls there are different ... Katyushas!

George frowned and sang softly:

The moon faded again behind the clouds.

For the third night I have not slept in a blind patrol.

Enemies are crawling into silence. Don't sleep, my country!

I am old. I'm weak. Oh woe to me ... oh woe!

“What do you mean“ calmly ”?” Olga asked, wiping her dusty lips with a handkerchief.

- And this means, - continuing to knock on the sleeve with the key, explained Georgy, - it means that: sleep well, old fool! For a long time already, all the fighters and commanders stand in their place ... Olya, did your sister tell you about my meeting with her?

- She said, I scolded her.

- In vain. A very funny girl. I tell her "a", she told me "bae"!

- With this funny girl you will sip grief, - Olga repeated again. - Some boy has become attached to her, his name is Timur. He is from the company of the bully Kvakin. And in no way I can drive him away from our house.

- Timur! .. Hm ... - Georgy coughed in embarrassment. - Is he from the company? He, it seems, is not that ... not very ... Well, okay! Do not worry ... I will brave him from your house. Olya, why don't you study at the conservatory? Just think - an engineer! I'm an engineer myself, but what's the use?

- Are you a bad engineer?

- Why bad? - moving towards Olga and now starting to knock on the hub of the front wheel, Georgy answered. - Not bad at all, but you play and sing very well.

“Listen, Georgiy,” Olga said, embarrassedly moving away.

And Olga waved her hand, showing how he taps the key first on the sleeve, then on the rim.

- Nothing strange. Everything is done as it should. ”He jumped up and banged the key on the frame.“ Well, that's it! Olya, is your father a commander?

- It's good. I am the commander myself too.

- Who will understand you! - Olga shrugged her shoulders. - Now you are an engineer, then you are an actor, then a commander. Perhaps, besides, you are also a pilot?

- No, - Georgiy grinned. - The pilots are jamming bombs on the heads from above, and we hit from the ground through iron and concrete straight to the heart.

And again fields, groves, rivers flashed before them, swarming. Finally, here is the dacha.

Zhenya jumped out of the terrace at the crash of a motorcycle. Seeing George, she was embarrassed, but when he dashed off, looking after him, Zhenya went up to Olga, hugged her and said with envy:
- Oh, how happy you are today!

Having agreed to meet not far from the garden of house number 24, the boys fled from behind the fence.

Only one Figure lingered. He was angry and surprised by the silence inside the chapel. The prisoners did not shout, did not knock, and did not respond to the questions and shouts of the Figure.

Then the Figur set off on a trick. Opening the outer door, he entered the stone wall and froze, as if he were not there.

And so, putting his ear to the lock, he stood until the outer iron door slammed shut with such a crash, as if it had been hit by a log.

“Hey, who’s there?” Figure got angry, rushing to the door.

But he was not answered. Other voices were heard outside. The hinges of the shutters creaked. Someone was talking to the prisoners through the bars of the window.

Then there was laughter inside the chapel. And this laughter made the Figure feel bad.

Finally, the outer door swung open. Timur, Simakov and Ladygin stood in front of the Figure.

“Open the second bolt!” Timur ordered without moving. “Open it yourself, or it will be worse!

Reluctantly, the Figure pushed the bolt back. Kolya and Geika came out of the chapel.

“Climb into their place!” Timur ordered. “Climb, you bastard, quickly!” He shouted, clenching his fists. “I have no time to talk to you!

Both doors slammed behind the Figure. They put a heavy crossbar on the loop and hung up the padlock. Then Timur took a sheet of paper and wrote clumsily with a blue pencil:

“Kvakin, there is no need to watch. I locked them, I have the key. I will come straight to the place, to the garden, in the evening. "

Then they all disappeared. Five minutes later, Kvakin entered the fence. He read the note, touched the lock, grinned and walked to the gate, while the locked Figure frantically pounded his fists and heels on the iron door.

From the gate Kvakin turned around and muttered indifferently:

- Knock, Geika, knock! No, brother, you will knock before evening.

Before sunset Timur and Simakov fled to the market square. Where the stalls lined up in disorder — kvass, water, vegetables, tobacco, groceries, ice cream — stood a clumsy empty booth at the very edge, in which shoemakers worked on market days. Timur and Simakov did not stay in this booth for long.

At dusk in the attic of the barn, the steering wheel began to work. One by one, strong rope wires were pulled, transmitting signals to the right place, and those that were needed.

Reinforcements were approaching. The boys gathered, there were already a lot - twenty or thirty. And more and more people slipped quietly and noiselessly through the holes in the fences.

Tanya and Nyurka were sent back. Zhenya was at home. She was supposed to detain and not let Olga into the garden, Timur was standing by the wheel in the attic.

“Repeat the signal on the sixth wire,” Simakov, who had poked his way through the window, asked anxiously.

Two boys were drawing a poster on the plywood. Ladygin's link came up.

Finally, the scouts came. Kvakin's gang gathered in a vacant lot near the garden of house number 24.

- It's time, - said Timur. - Everybody get ready!

He let go of the wheel, took hold of the rope.

And over the old barn, under the uneven light of the running moon between the clouds, the team's flag slowly rose and fluttered - a signal for battle.

... Along the fence of house no. 24 a chain of ten boys was advancing. Stopping in the shadows, Kvakin said:

- Everything is in place, but the Figure is gone.

“He's cunning,” someone replied. “He's probably already in the garden. He always climbs forward.

Kvakin pushed aside two boards that had been removed from the nails in advance and climbed through the hole. The others followed him. On the street by the hole there was only one sentry - Alyoshka.

Five heads peered out from a ditch overgrown with nettles and weeds across the street. Four of them immediately hid. The fifth - Kolya Kolokolchikova - lingered, but someone's hand slapped her on the top of her head, and her head disappeared.

Sentry Alyoshka looked around. Everything was quiet, and he stuck his head through the hole to listen to what was going on inside the garden.

Three were separated from the ditch. And in the next instant the sentry felt like strong strength jerked him by the legs, by the arms. And, not having time to shout, he flew away from the fence.

- Geika, - he muttered, raising his face, - where are you from?

“From there,” Geika hissed. “Look, be quiet! Otherwise I won't see what you stood up for me.

“Okay,” agreed Alyoshka, “I am silent.” And suddenly he whistled shrilly.

But immediately his mouth was clamped by Geika's wide palm. Someone's hands grabbed him by the shoulders and legs and dragged him away.

A whistle was heard in the garden. Kvakin turned around. The whistle did not repeat itself. Kvakin looked around attentively. Now it seemed to him that the bushes in the corner of the garden were stirring.

“A figure!” Kvakin called softly. “Is that you there, you fool, hiding?

- Bear! Fire! ”Someone suddenly shouted.“ They are the owners!

But these were not the masters.

Behind, in the thick of the foliage, no less than a dozen electric lights flashed. And, blinding their eyes, they swiftly approached the confused raiders.

“Hit, don't back down!” Kvakin shouted, snatching an apple out of his pocket and throwing it at the lights. “Tear the lanterns with your hands! It is he ... Timka!

“Timka is there, and Simka is here!” Simakov barked, pulling himself out from behind a bush.

And a dozen more boys rushed from the rear and from the flank.

- Hey! - shouted Kvakin. - Yes, they have strength! Fly over the fence, guys!

The ambushed gang rushed to the fence in panic. Pushing, knocking their heads together, the boys jumped out into the street and fell right into the hands of Ladygin and Geika.

The moon completely hid behind the clouds. Only voices were heard:

- Leave it!

- Don't go! Don't touch!

- Geika is here!

- Lead everyone to their place.

- And if someone does not go?

- Grab your hands, feet and drag with honor, like an icon of the Mother of God.

“Let go, you devils!” A crying voice rang out.

“Who is shouting?” Timur asked angrily. Geika, give a command, move!

The prisoners were led to an empty booth at the edge of the marketplace. Then they were pushed one by one out the door.

-Mikhail Kvakin to me, - asked Timur. Kvakin was brought up.

“Ready?” Timur asked.
- All is ready.
“Go,” Timur said to Kvakin then. “You are ridiculous. No one is afraid of you and does not need you.

Expecting that they would beat him, not understanding anything, Kvakin stood with his head down.

“Go,” Timur repeated. “Take this key and unlock the chapel where your friend Figura is sitting.

Kvakin did not leave.

“Get the guys out,” he asked gloomily. “Or sit me down with them.

- No, - Timur refused, - now it's all over. They have nothing to do with you or you with them.

Amid the whistle, noise and hooting, hiding his head in his shoulders, Kvakin slowly walked away. After walking a dozen steps away, he stopped and straightened up.

“I’ll beat you!” He shouted angrily, turning to Timur. “I’ll beat you alone. One on one, to death! ”And, jumping back, he disappeared into the darkness.

- Ladygin and your five, you are free, - Timur said. - What have you got?

- House number twenty-two, roll the logs along Bolshaya Vasilkovskaya.

- Good. Work!

A whistle roared at the station nearby. The suburban train arrived. Passengers got off it, and Timur hurried.

- Simakov and your top five, what do you have?

- Okay, work! And now ... people are coming here. The rest all go home ... At once!

Thunder and knocking rang out across the square. Passers-by who were walking off the train scuttled and stopped. The knocking and howling was repeated. Lights came on in the windows of neighboring dachas. Someone turned on the light above the stall, and the crowd of people saw the following poster above the tent:

PASSENGER, DO NOT RETRIEVE!

There are people sitting here, who cowardly at night rob the gardens of civilians.

The key to the lock hangs behind this poster, and the one who unlocks these prisoners, let him first see if there are any relatives or acquaintances among them.

Late night. And the black and red star on the gate is not visible. But she's here.

The garden of the house where the little girl lives. Ropes descended from a branchy tree. A boy slid down the rough trunk after them. He puts down the board, sits down and tries to see if they are strong, this new swing. The fat branch creaks a little, the foliage rustles and shudders. A disturbed bird fluttered and squeaked. It's already late. Olga has been sleeping for a long time, Zhenya is sleeping. His comrades are also asleep: the cheerful Simakov, the silent Ladygin, the funny Kolya. Tossing and turning, of course, and mumbling in a dream brave Geika.

The clock on the watchtower strikes the quarters: “It was day - there was business! Ding-dong ... one, two! .. "Yes, it's too late.

The boy gets up, fumbles through the grass with his hands and picks up a heavy bouquet of wildflowers. These flowers were picked by Zhenya.

Carefully, so as not to wake up and frighten the sleeping ones, he ascends the porch illuminated by the moon and carefully puts the bouquet on the top step. This is Timur.

It was a weekend morning. In honor of the anniversary of the victory of the Reds near Khasan, the Komsomol members of the village staged a big carnival in the park - a concert and a festivities.

The girls ran into the grove early. Olga hastily finished ironing her blouse. Fumbling through the dresses, she shook Zhenya's sundress, a piece of paper fell out of his pocket.

Olga picked up and read:

“Girl, don't be afraid of anyone at home. It's all right, and no one will know anything from me. Timur ".

“What does he not recognize? Why don't you be afraid? What is the secret of this secretive and sly girl? No! This must end. Dad was leaving, and he ordered ... We must act decisively and quickly. "

Georgy knocked on the window.

- Olya, - he said, - help out! A delegation came to me. They ask to sing something from the stage. Today is such a day - it was impossible to refuse. Let's accompany me on the accordion.

- Olya, I don’t want to be with the pianist. I want to go with you! We'll be good at it. Can I jump through the window to you? Leave the iron on and remove the tool. Well, I took it out for you myself. You just have to press the frets with your fingers, and I will sing.

- Listen, George, - Olga said resentfully, - in the end, you could not climb through the window when there are doors ...

It was noisy in the park. Cars with vacationers drove up in a line. Trucks with sandwiches, rolls, bottles, sausages, sweets, gingerbread were dragged along. The blue detachments of hand and wheeled ice cream makers approached in a slender manner. In the glades, gramophones screamed in discordant voices, around which visitors and local summer residents spread out with drinks and food. Music played.

An old man on duty stood at the gates of the fence of the pop theater and scolded the installer who wanted to go through the gate with his keys, belts and iron "crampons".

- With tools, dear, we don't let you here. It is a holiday today. You go home first, wash and dress.

- So, after all, dad, here without a ticket, for free!

- All the same, you can’t. Singing here. You should have dragged the telegraph pole with you. And you, citizen, go around too, - he stopped another man. - Here people sing ... music. And you have a bottle sticking out of your pocket.

- But, dear dad, - stammering, the man tried to object, - I need ... I am a tenor myself.

- Come in, come in, tenor, - the old man answered, pointing to the installer. - The bass doesn't mind. And you, tenor, don't mind too.

Zhenya, who was told by the boys that Olga had gone to the stage with the accordion, fidgeted impatiently on the bench.

Finally, Georgy and Olga came out. Wife became scared: it seemed to her that they would start laughing at Olga now. But nobody laughed.

Georgy and Olga stood on the stage, so simple, young and cheerful that Zhenya wanted to hug both of them. But Olga threw the belt over her shoulder. Deep wrinkle cut George's forehead, he slouched, bowed his head. Now it was an old man, and in a low, resonant voice he began to sing:

This is the third night I have not slept. It seems to me that everything is the same

Secret movement in gloomy silence

The rifle burns my hand. Anxiety gnaws at the heart

Like twenty years ago at night in the war.

But if I meet you now,

Mercenary armies enemy soldier,

Then I, a gray-haired old man, ready to rise to battle,

Calm and stern as twenty years ago.

- Oh, how good! And how sorry I am for this brave lame old man! Well done, well done ... - Zhenya muttered. - So, so. Play, Olya! It’s a pity that our dad doesn’t hear you.

After the concert, holding hands together, Georgy and Olga walked along the alley.

- That's right, - Olga said. - But I don't know where Zhenya has disappeared.

- She stood on the bench, - said George, - and shouted: "Bravo, bravo!" Then he came up to her ... - here Georgy hesitated, - some boy, and they disappeared.

- What boy? - Olga was alarmed. - Georgy, you are older, tell me what to do with her? Look! In the morning I found this piece of paper at her place!

George read the note. Now he thought about it himself and frowned.

- Do not be afraid - it means do not obey. Oh, and if I had caught this boy by the arm, then I would have talked to him!

Olga hid the note. They were silent for a while. But the music played very merrily, they laughed all around, and, again holding hands, they walked down the alley.

Suddenly, at an intersection, point-blank, they collided with another couple, who, just as amicably holding hands, walked towards them. They were Timur and Zhenya.

Confused, both couples bowed politely as they walked.

“Here he is!” Olga said desperately, tugging at George's hand. “This is the very boy.

- Yes, - Georgiy was embarrassed, - and the main thing is that this is Timur - my desperate nephew.

“And you knew!” Olga got angry. “And you didn't tell me anything!

Throwing back his hand, she ran down the alley. But neither Timur nor Zhenya was already visible. She turned onto a narrow, crooked path, and only then she came across Timur, who was standing in front of Figura and Kvakin.

“Listen,” Olga said, coming close to him. it's not enough for you that even dogs run from you - you spoil and turn your sister against me. You have a pioneer tie around your neck, but you're just ... a scoundrel.

Timur was pale.

“That's not true,” he said. “You don't know anything.

Olga waved her hand and ran to look for Zhenya.

Timur stood silent. The puzzled Figura and Kvakin were silent.

“Well, commissar?” Kvakin asked. “So you, I see, are sad too?

“Yes, chieftain,” Timur answered slowly raising his eyes. “It's hard for me now, I'm not happy. And it would be better if you caught me, beat me up, beat me, than listen to me because of you ... this.

“Why were you silent?” Kvakin chuckled. “You would say: it’s, they say, not me. It's them. We stood here, side by side.

- Yes! You would have said, and we would have attacked you for that, ”the delighted Figure inserted.

But Kvakin, who did not expect such support at all, silently and coldly looked at his comrade. And Timur, touching the tree trunks with his hand, slowly walked away.

“Proud,” Kvakin said quietly. - He wants to cry, but is silent.

“Let's shove him once, so he’ll cry,” said the Figur and launched a spruce cone after Timur.

- He is ... proud, - Kvakin repeated hoarsely, - and you ... you bastard!

And, turning, he blurted out his fist on the Figure's forehead. The figure was taken aback, then howled and rushed to run. Twice catching up with him, Kvakin gave him a jab in the back. Finally, Kvakin stopped, raised his dropped cap; shaking it off, hit it on the knee, went up to the ice cream maker, took a portion, leaned against a tree and, breathing heavily, greedily began to swallow ice cream in large chunks.

In a clearing near the shooting range, Timur found Geika and Sima.

“Timur!” Sima warned him. “Your uncle is looking for you (he seems to be very angry).

- Yes, I'm coming, I know.

- Will you come back here?

- I do not know.

“Tim!” Geika said unexpectedly softly and took his comrade by the hand. “What is this? After all, we did nothing wrong to anyone. Do you know if a person is right ...

- Yes, I know ... then he is not afraid of anything in the world. But he still hurts.

Timur left.

Zhenya approached Olga, who was carrying the accordion home.

“Go away!” Olga answered without looking at her sister. “I’m not talking to you anymore. I'm leaving for Moscow now, and without me you can walk with whoever you want, even until dawn.

- But, Olya ...

“I’m not talking to you. The day after tomorrow WE will move to Moscow. And there we'll wait for dad.

- Yes! Dad, not you - he will find out everything! - Zhenya shouted in anger and tears and rushed to look for Timur.

She found Geika, Simakov and asked where Timur was.

- He was called home, - said Geika. - Uncle is very angry with him for something because of you.

In a rage, Zhenya stamped her foot and, clenching her fists, cried out:

- Like this ... no way ... and people disappear! She hugged the trunk of a birch, but then Tanya and Nyurka jumped up to her.

“Zhenya!” Tanya screamed. “What's the matter with you? Zhenya, let's run! An accordion player came there, dancing began there - the girls were dancing.

They grabbed her, shook her and dragged her to a circle, inside which flashed bright, like flowers, dresses, blouses and sundresses.

“Zhenya, you don’t have to cry!” Nyurka said quickly and through clenched teeth as usual. “When my grandmother beats me, I don’t cry!” Girls, let's better go in a circle! .. Jumped!

- "Burp!" - Zhenya mimicked Nyurka. And, breaking through the chain, they whirled, spun in a desperately cheerful dance.

When Timur returned home, his uncle called him.

- I'm tired of your night adventures, - said George. - I'm tired of signals, calls, ropes. What was that strange story with a blanket?

- It was a mistake.

- That's a good mistake! Don't bother with this girl any more: her sister doesn't love you.

- For what?

- I do not know. So he deserved it. What are those notes you got? What are these strange meetings in the garden at dawn? Olga says that you teach a girl to hooliganism.

- She's lying, - Timur was indignant, - and also a Komsomol member! If she doesn't understand something, she could call me and ask. And I would answer her everything.

- Good. But, while you haven’t answered her yet, I forbid you to approach their dacha, and, in general, if you act on your own, I will immediately send you home to your mother.

He wanted to leave.

- Uncle, - Timur stopped him, - and when you were a boy, what did you do? How did you play?

- We? .. We ran, jumped, climbed on the roofs, it happened that we fought. But our games were simple and clear to everyone.

To teach Zhenya a lesson, in the evening, without saying a word to her sister, Olga left for Moscow.

She had no business in Moscow. And so, without visiting her room, she went to her friend, stayed with her until dark, and only at ten o'clock came to her apartment. She opened the door, turned on the light and immediately shuddered: a telegram was pinned to the door to the apartment. Olga tore off the telegram and read it. The telegram was from the Pope.

Towards evening, when the trucks were already leaving the park, Zhenya and Tanya ran to the dacha. A volleyball game was started, and Zhenya had to change his shoes for slippers.

She was tying a lace when the mother of a blond girl entered the room. The girl lay in her arms and dozed.

Upon learning that Olga was not at home, the woman was saddened.

“I wanted to leave your daughter with you,” she said. “I didn’t know there was no sister… The train comes tonight, and I have to go to Moscow to meet my mother.

- Leave her, - said Zhenya. - What Olga ... And I'm not a man, or what? Put it on my bed, and I will lie on the other.

- She sleeps peacefully and now she will wake up only in the morning, - the mother was delighted.

The little girl was stripped and laid. The mother is gone. Zhenya drew back the curtain so that the crib could be seen through the window, slammed the terrace door, and she and Tanya ran away to play volleyball, agreeing to run in turn after each game and watch the girl sleep.

They had just escaped when the postman entered the porch. He knocked for a long time, and since there was no response to him, he returned to the gate and asked his neighbor if the owners had left for the city.

- No, - answered the neighbor, - I just saw the girl here. Let me take the telegram.

The neighbor signed, put the telegram in his pocket, sat down on a bench and lit his pipe. He had been waiting for Zhenya for a long time.

An hour and a half passed. The postman approached the neighbor again.

- Here, - he said. - And what kind of fire, haste? Accept, friend, the second telegram.

The neighbor signed. It was already completely dark. He went through the gate, climbed the steps of the terrace and looked out the window. The little girl was asleep. A ginger kitten was lying on a pillow near her head. This means that the owners were somewhere near the house. The neighbor opened the window and dropped both telegrams through it. They lay down neatly on the windowsill, and when Zhenya returned, she should have noticed them immediately.

But Zhenya did not notice them. Arriving home, in the light of the moon, she straightened the girl who had crawled from the pillow, kicked the kitten, undressed and went to bed.

She lay there for a long time, thinking: this is what life is like! And she is not to blame, and Olga seems to be too. But for the first time, she and Olga had a serious quarrel.

It was very disappointing. I could not sleep, and Zhenya wanted rolls with jam. She jumped down, went to the closet, turned on the light and then saw telegrams on the windowsill.

She felt scared. With trembling hands, she tore off the tape and read it.

The first was:

"I'll be passing through today from twelve in the morning to three in the morning. Wait at the city apartment dad."

In the second:

"Come immediately at night, dad will be in the city of Olga."

She glanced at her watch with horror. It was a quarter to twelve. Throwing on her dress and grabbing the sleepy child, Zhenya, like a madman, rushed to the porch. I thought about it. She put the child on the bed. She jumped out into the street and rushed to the house of the old woman of the milkmaid. She banged on the door with her fist and foot until the neighbor's head appeared in the window.

“I’m not quick,” Zhenya said pleadingly. “I need a milkmaid, Aunt Masha. I wanted to leave her child.

“And what are you making?”, The neighbor replied, slamming the window. “The hostess left for the village to visit her brother in the morning.

From the side of the station came the whistle of an approaching train. Zhenya ran out into the street and ran into a gray-haired gentleman, a doctor.

“Excuse me!” She muttered. “Do you know which train is buzzing?

The gentleman took out his watch.

“Twenty-three fifty-five,” he replied. “This is the last one to go to Moscow today.

“How is the last one?” Zhenya whispered, swallowing tears. “And when is the next one?

- The next one will go in the morning, at three forty. Girl, what's wrong with you? ”The old man asked sympathetically, grabbing the swaying Zhenya by the shoulder.“ Are you crying? Maybe I can help you with something?

“Oh no!” Zhenya answered, holding back her sobs and running away. “Now no one in the world can help me.

At home, she buried her head in the pillow, but immediately jumped up and angrily looked at the sleeping girl. She came to her senses, pulled the blanket, pushed the ginger kitten off the pillow.

She turned on the light on the terrace, in the kitchen, in the room, sat down on the sofa and shook her head. So, she sat for a long time and, it seems, was not thinking about anything. Inadvertently, she touched the accordion that was lying there and then. Mechanically she picked it up and began to fingering the keys. A melody sounded, solemn and sad. Zhenya rudely interrupted the game and went to the window. Her shoulders trembled.

No! She no longer has the strength to remain alone and endure such torment. She lit a candle and stumbled across the garden to the barn.

Here is the attic. Rope, card, bags, flags. She lit the lantern, walked over to the steering wheel, found the wire she needed, hooked it onto the hook, and turned the wheel abruptly.

Timur was asleep when Rita touched his shoulder with her paw. He felt no jolt. And, grabbing the blanket with her teeth, Rita pulled it to the floor.

Timur jumped up.

“What are you?” He asked, not understanding. “Has anything happened?

The dog looked into his eyes, wiggled its tail, wagged its muzzle. Then Timur heard the ringing of a bronze bell.

Wondering who might need him in the dead of night, he went out onto the terrace and picked up the phone.

- Yes, I, Timur, at the apparatus. Who is this? Is that you ... You, Zhenya?

At first Timur listened calmly. But then his lips began to move, reddish spots began to appear on the linden. He breathed quickly and quickly.

“And only for three hours?” He asked worriedly. “Zhenya, are you crying? I hear ... you're crying. Do not dare! Do not! I will come soon ...

He hung up and grabbed the train schedule from the shelf.

- Yes, here it is, the last one, at twenty-three fifty-five. The next one will only go at three-forty. ”He stands and bites his lip.“ Too late! Is there really nothing you can do? No! Late!

But the red star burns day and night over the gates of Zhenya's house. He lit it himself, with his own hand, and its rays, straight, sharp, shine and flicker before his eyes.

The commander's daughter is in trouble! The commander's daughter was accidentally ambushed.

He quickly dressed, ran out into the street, and in a few minutes he was already standing in front of the porch of the gray-haired gentleman's summer house. The light was still on in the doctor's office. Timur knocked. They opened it to him.

“Who are you for?” The gentleman asked him dryly and in surprise.

- To you, - Timur answered.

- To me? - The gentleman thought, then opened the door with a wide gesture and said: - Then ... please! ..

They did not speak for long.

“That's all we do,” Timur finished his story with gleaming eyes. “That's all we do, how we play, and that's why I need your Kolya now.

Silently the old man stood up. With a sharp movement, he took Timur by the chin, raised his head, looked into his eyes and left.

He went into the room where Kolya was sleeping and tugged at his shoulder.

“Get up,” he said. “Your name is.

“But I don’t know anything,” Kolya said, goggling in fright. “I, grandfather, really don’t know anything.
“Get up,” the gentleman repeated dryly. “Your comrade has come for you.

In the attic, on an armful of straw, Zhenya sat with her hands wrapped around her knees. She was waiting for Timur. But instead of him, Kolya Kolokolchikov's disheveled head stuck through the window opening.

- Is that you? - Zhenya was surprised. - What do you want?

“I don’t know,” Kolya answered quietly and fearfully. “I was asleep. He came. I wake up. He sent. He ordered us to go downstairs to the gate.

- I do not know. I have a kind of knocking, buzzing in my head. I, Zhenya, don't understand anything myself.

There was no one to ask permission. Uncle spent the night in Moscow. Timur lit a lantern, took an ax, shouted to the dog Rita and went out into the garden. He stopped before closed door barn. He looked from the ax to the castle. Yes! He knew that it was impossible to do that, but there was no other way out. With a strong blow, he knocked the lock and brought the motorcycle out of the barn.

“Rita!” He said bitterly, kneeling down and kissing the dog in the face. “Don't be angry! I could not do otherwise.

Zhenya and Kolya stood at the gate. A rapidly approaching fire appeared in the distance. The fire flew directly at them, and the crackling of the engine was heard. Blinded, they closed their eyes, backed away to the fence, when suddenly the fire went out, the engine stopped and Timur appeared in front of them.

- Kolya, - he said, without greeting and without asking anything, - you will stay here and will guard the sleeping girl. You are responsible for her to our entire team. Zhenya, sit down. Forward! To Moscow!

Zhenya screamed that she had strength, hugged Timur and kissed him.

- Sit down, Zhenya. sit down! ”Timur shouted trying to sound stern.“ Hold on tight! Well, go ahead! Let's move on!

The motor crackled, the whistle barked, and soon the red light disappeared from the eyes of the confused Kolya.

He stood for a while, raised his stick and, holding it at the ready, like a gun, walked around the brightly lit dacha.

“Yes,” he mumbled, walking importantly. “Oh, how hard you are, soldier's service! There is no rest for you during the day, there is no night!

The time was approaching three in the morning. Colonel Aleksandrov was sitting at the table, on which stood a cold teapot and scraps of sausage, cheese and rolls.

“I’ll leave in half an hour,” he said to Olga. “It's a pity that I never had to see Zhenya. Olya, are you crying?

“I don’t know why she didn’t come. I feel so sorry for her, she was waiting for you so much. Now she's going to go completely crazy. And she's already crazy.

- Olya, - the father said, getting up, - I don’t know, I don’t believe that Zhenya could get into bad company to be spoiled, to be commanded. No! Not that kind of character.

- Well, - Olga was upset. - You just tell her about it. She already got it right that her character is the same as yours. Why is there such a thing! She climbed onto the roof, lowered a rope through the pipe. I want to take the iron, and he jumps up. Dad, when you left, she had four dresses. Two are already rags. She grew out of the third, I don’t give her one to wear yet. And I sewed three new ones for her myself. But everything on it and burns. She's always bruised and scratched. And she, of course, will do, her lips will be folded in a bow, her blue eyes will goggle. Of course, everyone thinks - a flower, not a girl. Go on. Wow! Flower! Touch and burn yourself. Dad, don't make it up that she has the same character as you. Just tell her about it! She will dance on the trumpet for three days.

- Okay, - his father agreed, embracing Olga. - I'll tell her. I'll write to her. Well, you, Olya, don't press too much on her. You tell her that I love her and remember that we will be back soon and that she shouldn't cry for me, because she is the commander's daughter.

“It will be all the same,” Olga said, snuggling up to her father. “And I’m the commander’s daughter. And so will I.

Father looked at his watch, went to the mirror, put on his belt and began to pull on his shirt. Suddenly the outer door slammed. The curtain parted. And, somehow angularly shifting his shoulders, as if preparing for a jump, Zhenya appeared.

But, instead of screaming, running up, jumping, she silently, quickly approached and silently hid her face on her father's chest. Her forehead was spattered with mud, her crumpled dress was stained. And Olga asked in fear:

- Zhenya, where are you from? How did you get here?

Without turning her head, Zhenya brushed aside with her hand, and this meant: "Wait! .. Leave me alone! .. Don't ask! .."

Father took Zhenya in his arms, sat down on the sofa, and sat her on his lap. He looked into her face and wiped her stained forehead with his hand.

- Yes OK! You are a fine fellow, Zhenya!

- But you're covered in mud, your face is black! How did you get here? ”Olga asked again.

Zhenya showed her to the curtain, and Olga saw Timur.

He was taking off his leather car leggings. His temple was smeared yellow oil... He had it wet tired face a working man who has done his job honestly. Greeting everyone, he tilted his head.

“Dad!” Zhenya said, jumping up from her father’s knees and running up to Timur. - You don’t trust anyone! They don't know anything. This is Timur - my very good friend.

Father got up and, without hesitation, shook Timur's hand. A quick and triumphant smile passed over Zhenya's face - for an instant she looked inquisitively at Olga. And the one, confused, still perplexed, approached Timur:

- Well ... then hello ...

Soon the clock struck three.

- Dad, - Zhenya was frightened, - are you getting up already? Our clock is in a hurry.

- No, Zhenya, that's for sure.

“Dad, your watch is in a hurry too.” She ran to the phone, dialed the time, and an even metallic voice came from the receiver: “Three hours four minutes!

Zhenya looked at the wall and said with a sigh:

- Ours are in a hurry, but only for one minute. Dad, take us to the station with you, we will accompany you to the train!

- No, Zhenya, you can't. I won't have time there.

- Why? Dad, don't you already have a ticket?

- Soft?

- In the soft.

- Oh, how I would like to go with you far, far in soft! ..

And this is not a railway station, but some kind of station, similar to a commodity station near Moscow, perhaps to Sortirovochnaya. Tracks, switches, trains, wagons. There are no people in sight. An armored train is on the line. The iron window opened slightly, the driver's face, illuminated by the flames, flashed and disappeared. Zhenya's father, Colonel Aleksandrov, is standing on the platform in a leather coat. The lieutenant approaches, salutes and asks:

- Comrade commander, may I go?

“Yes!” The Colonel looks at his watch: three hours fifty-three minutes. “Ordered to leave at three hours fifty-three.

Colonel Alexandrov walks up to the car and looks. Day is breaking, but the sky is overcast. He grabs the wet handrails. A heavy door opens in front of him. And, putting his foot on the step, smiling, he asks himself:

- Soft?

- Yes! In soft ...

The heavy steel door slams shut behind him. Exactly, without jolts, without clanging, this entire armored mass starts to move and smoothly picks up speed. A steam locomotive is passing by. Gun turrets float. Moscow is left behind. Fog. The stars are extinguished. Day is breaking.

... In the morning, finding neither Timur nor a motorcycle at home, Georgy, who returned from work, immediately decided to send Timur home to his mother. He sat down to write a letter, but through the window he saw a Red Army soldier walking along the path.

The Red Army soldier took out the package and asked:

- Comrade Garayev?

- Georgy Alekseevich?

- Accept the package and sign.

The Red Army soldier left. Georgy looked at the package and whistled knowingly. Yes! Here it is, the very thing that he had been waiting for for a long time. He opened the package, read and crumpled up the letter he had started. Now it was necessary not to send Timur, but to call his mother here, to the dacha by telegram.

Timur entered the room - and the angry Georgy slammed his fist on the table. But after Timur came Olga and Zhenya.

“Hush!” Olga said. “No need to shout or knock. Timur is not to blame. You are to blame, and so am I.

“Yes,” said Zhenya, “you don’t shout at him. Olya, don't touch the table. This revolver over there shoots very loudly.

Georgy looked at Zhenya, then at the revolver, at the broken handle of the clay ashtray. He begins to understand something, he guesses, and he asks:

- So, it was then that you were here at night, Zhenya?

- Yes, it was me. Olya, tell the person everything plainly, and we will take kerosene, a rag and go clean the car.

The next day, when Olga was sitting on the terrace, the commander walked through the gate. He walked firmly, confidently, as if walking to his home, and the surprised Olga rose to meet him. In front of her, in the form of a captain of the tank forces, stood Georgy.

“What's this?” Olga asked quietly. “This is again ... a new role for the opera?

- No, - Georgy answered. - I went in to say goodbye for a minute. This is not a new role, but just a new form.

- This, - pointing to the buttonholes and slightly blushing, Olga asked, - is that the same? .. "We hit through iron and concrete right in the heart"?

- Yes, that is. Sing to me and play, Olya, something on a long journey-road. He sat down. Olga took the accordion:

... Pilot pilots! Machine bombs!

So we flew away on a long journey.

When will you be back?

I don't know if soon

Just come back ... at least someday.

Gay! Wherever you are,

On earth, in heaven,

Over foreign countries eh -

Two wings,

Red star wings

Lovely and formidable

I am still waiting for you,

How I waited.

Here, - she said. - But this is all about pilots, and I don't know such a good song about tankers.

- Nothing, - asked George. - And you find me a good word even without a song.

Olga pondered, and, looking for the right good word, she quieted down, looking attentively at his gray and no longer laughing eyes.

Zhenya, Timur and Tanya were in the garden.

“Listen,” Zhenya suggested. “Georgy is leaving now. Let's gather the whole team to see him off. Let's bang the number one call sign common. That will be a commotion!

- Don't, - Timur refused.

- Why?

- Do not! We did not see anyone else off like that.

“Well, don’t do that, don’t,” Zhenya agreed. “You sit here, I’ll go get some water.” She left, and Tanya laughed.

- What are you doing? - Timur did not understand. Tanya laughed even louder.

- Well done, well, we have Zhenya! "I'll go get some water!"

“Attention!” Zhenya's ringing, triumphant voice rang out from the attic.

- I am giving a common call sign in form number one.

“Crazy!” Timur jumped up. “Yes, a hundred people will come rushing here now! What are you doing?

But already the heavy wheel began to spin, creaked, the wires shuddered, twitched: "Three - stop", "three - stop", stop! And under the roofs of sheds, in closets, in chicken coops, signal bells, rattles, bottles, cans rang out. One hundred, not one hundred, but not less than fifty guys rushed quickly to the call of a familiar signal.

- Olya, - Zhenya burst into the terrace, - we'll go see off too! There are a lot of us. Look out the window.

- Hey, - George was surprised, pulling back the curtain. - Yes, you have a big team. It can be loaded onto a train and sent to the front.

“It’s impossible!” Zhenya sighed, repeating Timur’s words. “All chiefs and commanders were ordered to chase our brother out of there by the neck. It's a pity! I would have gone somewhere there ... in a battle, in an attack. Machine guns on the line of fire! .. First-r-wai!

“First… you're a braggart and a chieftain in the world!” Olga mimicked her, and, throwing the accordion strap over her shoulder, she said. They went out into the street. Olga played the accordion. Then flasks, cans, bottles, sticks struck - it was a home-made orchestra that rushed forward, and a song burst out.

They walked along the green streets, overgrowing with more and more people seeing off. At first, strangers did not understand: why noise, thunder, screeching? What is the song about and what? But, having figured it out, they smiled and who to themselves, and who aloud wished George have a good trip... As they approached the platform, a military train passed the station without stopping.

There were Red Army men in the first cars. They waved their hands and shouted. Then there were open platforms with carts, over which a whole forest of green shafts protruded. Then - the carriages with horses. The horses shook their muzzles, chewed hay. And they also shouted "hurray". Finally, a platform flashed by, on which lay something large, angular, carefully wrapped in a gray tarpaulin. Right there, swaying as the train went, a sentry stood. The train disappeared, a train came up. And Timur said goodbye to his uncle.

Olga came up to George.

“Well, goodbye!” She said. “And maybe for a long time?

He shook his head and shook her hand.

- I do not know ... How fate!

Whistle, noise, thunder of the deafening orchestra. The train left. Olga was thoughtful. In Zhenya's eyes there is great and incomprehensible happiness to her. Timur is agitated, but he is holding on.

“And me?” Cried Zhenya. “And they?” She pointed at her comrades. “And this?” And she pointed at the red star.

“Be calm!” Olga said to Timur, shaking off her thoughts. “You have always thought about people, and they will repay you in kind.

Timur raised his head. Ah, and here, and here he could not answer otherwise, this simple and sweet boy!

He looked around at his comrades, smiled and said:

“I’m standing… I’m looking. Everyone is good! Everyone is calm, so I am calm too!