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

understand'!"
"Hold your horses. It's like this. Igor and Seva have run away."
"What! Where to?"
"To fight the fascists."
"What's all this nonsense!"
"Here, read this yourself."
Genka gave Misha a note. It was very short: "Good-bye, chaps, we've
gone to fight the fascists. Igor. Seva."
Misha read it a few times.
"What utter nonsense!" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "When did this
happen?"
"Yesterday, I mean today," Genka began to explain. "Yesterday they went
to bed the same time as everybody else, but when we woke up this morning,
they were gone. We found this note. Last night I thought they were acting
suspiciously when they suddenly began to polish their boots as though it
were a holiday. It made me want to laugh."
But Misha did not think it was a joke.
"Have you looked for them?"
"Everywhere. In the woods and in the village."
"Fine deputies you are," Misha said with a deprecatory gesture of his
hand, giving Genka and Slava a withering look.
"What have we got to do with it?" Genka and Slava cried in unison.
"Plenty! Nobody ran away before!"
Genka pressed his hand to his breast.
"I give you my word of honour."
"You can keep your word of honour," Misha stopped him. "Let's go to the
camp!"
Genka and Slava shouldered the sacks and followed Misha.


Chapter 3

THE MANOR


The path twisted and turned across fields.
Genka chattered without stop, but when he spoke he had to wave his
hands and so somehow, without anyone noticing it, the sack returned to
Korovin's shoulders.
"Even if you outwit the countess," Genka rambled on, "it won't be easy
to organize a labour commune here and get things going. In fact, I'll say
it's impossible. There's nothing in the estate, only the house. Not a thing
else. No harrow, plough or cart. And don't think for a moment that the
peasants got them. They were all pinched by the kulaks. I can swear to that!
The kulaks they've got here have got all the others beat. You can't imagine
what they're doing."
"What?" Korovin asked.
"You are a numskull! We came here to organize a Young Pioneer troop,
but look at the odds against us. First, the kulaks. Second, religion. Third,
lack of understanding by the parents: they're not letting the kids join.