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

forgetting all about the scratch. Went to repair the bike?! Just his luck!
Uncle Senya had not gone near the bicycle all summer and of all days he had
to do the repairing to-day. He was bound to see the tube now and make a
tiresome fuss.
Uncle Senya certainly was a nuisance! If Misha got into a scrape with
Grandmother she would simply give him a scolding and let it go at that. But
not Uncle Senya. Not him! His style was to curl his lips and begin a long
lecture. Whenever that happened he would look past Misha, fidget with his
pince-nez, endlessly putting it on and taking it off, pull at the gilt
buttons on his student uniform. Misha could not see why he still wore that
uniform: he had been expelled from the university a long time ago for
"stirring up disturbances." It would be interesting to know what
disturbances such a well-mannered person as Uncle Senya could stir up. His
face was pale and grave, and he wore a short moustache. At dinner he usually
squinted over a book and ate his food absent-mindedly.
The clatter of the bicycle in the store-room made Misha start again.
And when Uncle Senya appeared in the doorway with the slashed tube in
his hand Misha sprang out of his chair, overturning it as he dashed out of
the house.

Chapter 2

THE BOYS OF OGORODNAYA AND ALEKSEYEVSKAYA STREETS


He dashed across the garden, scrambled over the fence and landed in the
neighbouring street-Ogorodnaya. Only a hundred yards separated this street
from his own-the Alekseyevskaya; but the Ogorodnaya boys, sworn enemies of
the boys from the Alekseyevskaya, noticed Misha and charged upon him from
all sides, gleefully whooping and whistling at the prospect of beating up a
boy from the Alekseyevskaya, and a Moscovite to boot.
Misha quickly climbed back on to the fence and straddled his legs over
it.
"What, caught me?" he shouted at them. "You miserable Ogorodnaya
(Ogorodnaya-from the Russian ogorod, meaning vegetable garden. -Tr).
scarecrows!"
He could not have picked on a deadlier insult. A hail of stones
showered down on him. Misha slid off the fence, feeling a lump swelling on
his forehead, but the stones continued to fly, landing near the house from
which Grandmother made a sudden appearance. She peered near-sightedly and,
turning to the house, called to someone. Uncle Senya, most likely. Misha
pressed himself against the fence.
"Hey, fellows," he called out, "wait a sec! I want to tell you
something."
"What?" demanded a voice from the other side of the fence.
"First stop throwing!" Misha climbed back to the fence, cautiously
watching the boys' hands, and said: "Why did you all team up against one
fellow? Play fair-one against one."
"Come on then!" cried Petka Petukh ( Petukh-from the Russian meaning
cock.-Tr.), a sturdy boy of about fifteen throwing off his torn jacket and