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

without cavalry. Nikitsky's gang is all mounted."
"Well, what about it!" Misha said with a contemptuous curl of his lip.
"Polevoy'll catch that Nikitsky soon anyway."
"That's not so simple," Genka contended, "they've been trying to get
him a whole year now, and they can't."
"They will," Misha said confidently.
"Easy to say," Genka looked up, "but he's wrecking trains every day.
Father's already afraid of driving his engine."
"Never mind, they'll catch him."
Misha yawned, dug deeper into the sand and shut his eyes. Genka was
also dozing. They did not feel like arguing any longer in the heat. The
silent steppe was lazily withdrawing into the horizon as though to escape
the scorching sun.


Chapters 3

AFFAIRS AND DREAMS



Genka went home to dinner, but Misha went to the crowded, noisy
Ukrainian market.
He wandered about the market for a long time, looking at the carts
piled high with green cucumbers, red tomatoes, and wicker-baskets of
berries; the pink, shrilly squealing sucking-pigs; the white geese flapping
their great wings; the sluggish oxen endlessly chewing the cud, their sticky
saliva dribbling to the ground.
As he walked through the market Misha remembered the Moscow bread and
the watery milk bartered for potato peel. He longed for Moscow, its
tram-cars, and evening lights.
He stopped before an invalid rolling three beads on a bench. Each was
of a different colour-red, white, and black. The man covered one of them
with a thimble and offered a prize to anyone guessing its colour. But the
right colour was elusive.
"Friends!" the invalid said, appealing to the losers. "If I start
losing to everyone I'll have to sell my last leg. You've got to under stand
that."
While Misha was examining the beads, someone suddenly put a hand on his
shoulder. Turning round he saw Grandmother standing behind him.
"Where on earth have you been the whole day?" she asked sternly,
clinging tenaciously to Misha's shoulder.
"Swimming," Misha mumbled.
"Swimming!" Grandmother repeated. "How do you like that? He was
swimming-well, we'll speak about it at home."
She gave him her basket of purchases and marched him off.
Grandmother walked in silence. She smelled of onions, garlic and of
something fried, something boiled, like all the smells in the kitchen.
"What'll they do to me?" Misha thought as he walked beside Grandmother.
He was in a bit of a jam, he could see that. Against him there were