"Timur and his team"

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

In the middle of summer, he sent a telegram in which he suggested that his daughters Olga and Zhenya spend the rest of the holidays near Moscow, in the country.

Pushing her colored scarf to the back of her head and leaning on the stick of the brush, the frowning Zhenya stood in front of Olga, and she said to her:

I went with my things, and you will clean up the apartment. You can not twitch your eyebrows and do not lick your lips. Then lock the door. Take the books to the library. Do not go to your friends, but go straight to the station. From there, send dad this telegram. 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, after all, that's what dad said.

When a departing car snorted in the yard, Zhenya sighed and looked around. There was chaos and chaos all around. She walked over to a dusty mirror that reflected a portrait of her father hanging on the wall.

Good! Let Olga be older, and for now you need to obey her. But on the other hand, she, Zhenya, has the same nose, mouth, eyebrows as her father. And, probably, the character will be the same as his.

She tied her hair tightly with a kerchief. She threw off her sandals. I took a rag. She pulled the tablecloth off the table, put a bucket under the tap, and, grabbing a brush, dragged a pile of garbage to the threshold.

Soon the kerosene stove puffed and the primus hummed.

The floor was filled with water. Soap suds hissed and burst in the zinc linen trough. And passers-by from the street looked in surprise at a 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 sped along the wide sunny road. Putting her feet on the suitcase and leaning on a soft bundle, Olga sat in a wicker chair. A ginger kitten lay on her lap and pawed at a bouquet of cornflowers.

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

At the sound of this song, the windows and doors in the huts opened wider. Delighted children flew out from behind the fences, from the gates. They waved their arms, threw still unripe apples to the Red Army soldiers, shouted “Hurrah” after them, and immediately started fights, battles, cutting into sagebrush and nettles with swift cavalry attacks.

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

The driver and assistant threw back the sides and began to unload things, and Olga opened the glazed terrace.

From here one could see a large neglected garden. At the back of the garden was a clumsy two-story shed, and a small red flag fluttered from the roof of this shed.

Olga returned to the car. Here a brisk old woman jumped up to her - it was a neighbor, a milkmaid. She volunteered to clean the dacha, wash the windows, floors and walls. While the neighbor was sorting out basins and rags, Olga took the kitten and went into the garden.

Hot tar glistened on the trunks of sparrow-poked cherries. There was a strong smell of currants, chamomile and wormwood. The moss-covered roof of the barn was full of holes, and from these holes stretched over the top and disappeared into the leaves of the trees some thin rope wires.

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

What's happened? There was no longer a red flag over the roof, and only a stick stuck out there.

Then Olga heard a quick, anxious whisper. And suddenly, breaking dry branches, a heavy ladder - the one that was put to the window of the attic of the shed - flew with a crash along the wall and, crushing the mugs, clanged loudly on the ground.

The rope wires above the roof trembled. Scratching his hands, the kitten somersaulted 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 barn window, was anyone to be seen or heard.

She returned to the porch.

It's the kids in other people's gardens playing tricks, - the thrush woman explained to Olga. - Yesterday at neighbors two apple-trees have shaken, have broken a pear. Such people went ... hooligans. I, dear, saw my son to serve in the Red Army. And as he went, he did not drink wine. "Goodbye, - says, - mother." And he went and whistled dear. Well, by the evening, as expected, she felt sad, she cried. And at night I wake up, and it seems to me that someone is snooping around the yard, sniffing. Well, I think, I'm a lonely person now, there is no one to intercede ... But how much do I, the old one, need? Brick on the head with a brick - here I am ready. However, God had mercy - nothing was stolen. They chuckled, chuckled, and left. There was a tub in my yard - oak, you can't turn it off together - so they rolled it twenty paces to the gate. That's all. And what kind of people were, what kind of people - it's a dark matter.

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

She put the accordion on her knees, threw the strap over her shoulder and began to match the music to the words of the song she had recently heard:

Ah, if only once I could see you again, Ah, if only... once...

And two... and three...

And you will not understand On a fast plane, As I expected you until dawn.

Pilot pilots! Machine gun bombs!

Here they are on a long journey.

When will you return?

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 near the fence.

When she had finished playing, she quickly got up and, turning to the bush, asked loudly:

Listen! Why are you hiding and what do you need here?

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

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 some reason.

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

Understandably! Olga smiled. - But here's the gate. And be kind enough to get through it back to the street.

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

Wait! She stopped him as she walked down the stairs. - 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, - Olga unexpectedly simply suggested to him. - Take me to the station. I'm waiting for my little sister. It's already dark, it's late, but she's still gone and gone. Understand, I'm not afraid of anyone, but I still don't know the local streets. But wait, why are you opening the gate? You can wait for me at the fence.

She carried the accordion, threw a handkerchief over her shoulders, and went out into the dark street, which smelled of dew and flowers.

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

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

With this worthless girl you will eat grief! Olga exclaimed angrily. - Well, if I were still forty or at least thirty. And then she is thirteen, I am eighteen, and therefore she does not obey me at all.

Forty is not necessary! - resolutely refused George. - Eighteen is much better! Yes, you need not worry. Your sister will arrive early in the morning.

The platform is empty.

George took out a cigarette case. Immediately two dashing teenagers came up to him and, waiting for the fire, took out their cigarettes.

A young man, - lighting a match and illuminating the face of the elder, said Georgy. - 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 were industriously breaking a board out of a new fence. Your name is Mikhail Kvakin. Is not it?

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

When they moved away, the second boy put a soiled cigarette behind his ear and casually asked:

What kind of propagandist is this? Local?

Local, - reluctantly answered Kvakin. - This is Timka Garayev's uncle. Timka would have to be caught, he had to be beaten. He's got himself a company, and they seem to be working against us.

Then both friends noticed, under a lamp at the end of the platform, a gray-haired respectable gentleman, who, leaning on a stick, was descending a ladder.

It was a local resident, Dr. F. G. Kolokolchikov. They ran after him, asking loudly if he had any matches. But their appearance and voices did not please this gentleman, because, turning around, he threatened them with a gnarled stick, and sedately went 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 country train, she decided to find the village post office.

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

Not far away she saw a nimble little girl dragging a stubborn goat by the horns cursing.

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 galloped through the park, and the girl rushed after her with a scream.

Zhenya looked around: it was already getting dark, but 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?

They didn't answer her. She stood, thought, opened the door and went through the corridor into the room. The owners were not at home. Then, embarrassed, she turned to go out, but then a large light-red dog crawled silently out from under the table. She carefully looked at the dumbfounded girl and, growling softly, lay down across the path at the door.

You're stupid! Zhenya screamed, spreading her fingers in fright. - I'm not a thief! I didn't take anything from you. This is the key to our apartment. This is a telegram for 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:

Here you go! You lie? And lie down ... A very good dog ... so smart, cute in appearance.

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

Very strange,” she said, almost crying. - You catch robbers and spies, and I ... man. Yes! She stuck out her tongue to 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, another ... It was already dark. Through the open window came the distant horns of locomotives, the barking of dogs, and the bang of a volleyball. Somewhere they played the guitar. And only here, near the gray dacha, everything was deaf and quiet.

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

Finally she fell sound asleep.

She only woke up in the morning.

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

Zhenya now had a soft leather pillow under her head, 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, brushed her hair back, straightened her crumpled sarafan, took the key from the table, the unsent telegram, and wanted to run away.

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

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

"Timur? Who is Timur? We should see and thank this man."

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

The look turned out to be severe, menacing. It would be nice to act like that and then drag a card to school! One could lie that once her father took her to the front with him. You can take a revolver in your left hand. Like this. It will be even better. She pulled her eyebrows together, pursed her lips, and, aiming at the mirror, squeezed the trigger.

The roar hit the room. Smoke covered the windows. A table mirror fell on an 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 ended up on the bank of a 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 be told everything: about the dog, and about spending the night in an empty cottage, and about the Turkish saber, and, finally, about the shot. Bad! If there was a dad, he would understand. Olga won't understand. Olga will get angry or, what good, cry. And that's 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 took a bath and quietly went to look for her dacha.

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

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

I will! Olga replied without taking her eyes off her sister.

Well, swear, - Zhenya agreed meekly. - Such, you know, a strange case, such an extraordinary adventure! Olya, I beg you, don’t twitch 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 burst open with a bang. A shaggy goat, all covered in burrs, jumped into the yard and, lowering her horns low, rushed into the depths of the garden. And after her, a barefoot girl, already familiar to Zhenya, rushed with a scream.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Zhenya interrupted the dangerous conversation and rushed into the garden to drive out the goat. She overtook the girl when she was holding the goat by the horns, panting.

Girl, have you lost anything? - the girl quickly asked Zhenya through her teeth, without ceasing to beat the goat with kicks.

No, Zhenya did not understand.

And whose is it? 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, note and receipt, and the telegram has already been sent, - the girl muttered just as quickly and through her teeth.

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

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

Squeezing her shoulders, as if she had been beaten, and not the goat, Zhenya opened the bundle:

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

In this note, in large blue pencil, was written:

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

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

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

Olya! Zhenya exclaimed sadly. - I was joking. So 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 let me kiss you. You know how much I love you! Do you want me to jump into nettles from the roof for you?

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

Yes ... but I was worried, - Olga spoke with despair. - And your jokes are always ridiculous ... And my dad ordered me ... Zhenya, leave it! Zhenya, my hands are in kerosene! Zhenya, better pour some milk and put the pan on the primus stove!

I ... can’t do without jokes, - Zhenya muttered at a time when Olga was standing near the washstand.

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

Olya, is there a god?

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

And who is?

Leave me alone! - Olga answered with annoyance. - There is not anyone!

Zhenya paused and asked again:

Olya, who is Timur?

This is not a god, this is one such king, ”Olga answered reluctantly, washing her face and hands,“ evil, lame, from middle history.

And if not a king, not evil and not from the middle, then who?

Then I don't know. Leave me alone! And what did Timur give you?

And the fact that I think I love this man very much.

Whom? - And Olga raised her face covered with soapy foam in bewilderment. - Why are you muttering everything there, inventing, not letting you wash your face in peace. Just wait, dad will come, and he will understand 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.

Are you alone and helpless? Olga asked incredulously. - Oh, Zhenya, I don’t know what kind of person you are and who you were born into!

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

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

An elderly gentleman, Dr. F. G. Kolokolchikov, was sitting in his garden repairing a wall clock.

In front of him with a sad expression was his grandson Kolya.

It was believed that he helps grandfather in his work. In fact, for an hour now, he had been holding a screwdriver in his hand, waiting for 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. This was insulting, especially since the swirling head of Sima Simakov, a very agile and knowledgeable person, had already protruded several times from behind the neighboring fence. And this Sima Simakov gave Kolya signs with his tongue, head and hands, so strange and mysterious that even Kolya's five-year-old sister Tatyanka, who, sitting under a linden tree, was intently trying to push a burdock into the mouth of a lazily lounging dog, suddenly screamed and pulled grandfather by the trouser leg, after causing Sima Simakov's head to instantly disappear.

Finally the spring fell into place.

A man must work, - raising his wet forehead and turning to Kolya, the gray-haired gentleman F. G. Kolokolchikov said admonishingly. - You have such a face, as if I treat you with castor oil. Give the screwdriver and take the pliers. Work ennobles a person. You just don't have enough spirituality. For example, yesterday you ate four servings of ice cream, but did not share it with your younger sister.

She's lying, shameless! - Casting an angry glance at Tatyanka, exclaimed the offended Kolya. “Three times I gave her two bites. She went to complain about me, and on the way she stole four kopecks from her mother's table.

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

Kolya Kolokolchikov's spirit was taken away by these impudent words of the unscrupulous 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. Very opportunely, a milkmaid came into the garden with cans and, measuring milk in circles, began to complain:

And in my house, father Fedor Grigorievich, the crooks almost knocked the oak tub out of the yard at night. And today people say that as soon as it was light on my roof they saw two people sitting on a pipe, damned, and dangling their legs.

That is, like a pipe? What is this purpose, if you please? began to ask the astonished gentleman.

But then from the side of the chicken coop there was a clang and ringing. The screwdriver in the gray-haired gentleman's hand quivered, and the stubborn spring, flying out of its nest, clanged against the iron roof with a screech. Everyone, even Tatyanka, even the 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 cowshed, from inside which, just like from a chicken coop, came sharp sounds, as if someone were beating a steel rail with a weight. It was here that he ran into Sima Simakov, whom he excitedly asked:

Listen... I don't understand. What is this?... Anxiety?

Well no! This appears to be in the form of the number one call sign in common.

They jumped over the fence, dived into the hole in the park fence. Here Geika's broad-shouldered, strong boy collided with them. Vasily Ladygin jumped up next. Another and another. And silently, nimbly, with the only moves they knew, they rushed to some goal, talking briefly as they ran:

Is it anxiety?

Well no! This is the number one form of the common call sign.

What's the call sign? This is not "three - stop", "three - stop". It's some idiot throwing ten hits in a row with the wheel.

But let's see!

Yep, let's check it out!

Forward! Lightning!

And at that time, in the room of the same dacha where Zhenya spent the night, there was a tall dark-haired boy of thirteen years old. He wore light black trousers and a dark blue tank top with a red star embroidered on it.

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

- "Girl, when you leave, slam the door tight," the old man read mockingly. - So, maybe you can still tell me who spent the night on our sofa today?

One familiar girl, - the boy reluctantly answered. - She was detained by a dog without me.

Here you lie! the old man got angry. - If she was familiar to you, then here, in a note, you would call her by name.

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

Did not know. And you left her alone this morning... in the apartment? You, my friend, are sick, and you must be sent to a madhouse. This rubbish broke the mirror, smashed the ashtray. Well, it's good that the revolver was loaded with blanks. And if it had live ammunition in it?

But, uncle... you don't have live ammunition, because your enemies have guns and sabers... just wooden ones.

It looked like the old man was smiling. However, shaking his shaggy head, he said sternly:

You look! I notice everything. Your affairs, as I see, are dark, and no matter how I sent 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 paws of the dog that ran into the room and kissed it on the muzzle.

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

And exactly. There was a cough from upstairs in the room. Then a sort of tra-la-la! .. And finally the low baritone sang:

I haven't slept for three nights.

I still see the same secret movement in gloomy silence...

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

Suddenly, with a noise, he slammed the door that led upstairs to his uncle, and through the corridor after the dog 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 thumped against the wall.

The little boy clutched it in his hand, wrapped the twine around a nail. Now the quivering string has loosened, must have snapped somewhere. Then, surprised and angry, he grabbed the phone.

An hour before all this happened, Olga was sitting at the table. In front of her was a physics textbook.

Zhenya came in and took out a vial of iodine.

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

And I was walking, - Zhenya replied nonchalantly, - and there stood in the way something so prickly or sharp. That's how it happened.

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

Not true! You have a math exam in your way. It is both spiky and sharp. Here, look, you'll cut yourself off! .. Olechka, don't go to the engineer, go to the doctor, - Zhenya spoke, slipping a table mirror to Olga. - Well, look: what kind of engineer are you? An engineer should be - here ... here ... and here ... (She made three energetic grimaces.) And you have - here ... here ... and here ... - Here Zhenya moved her eyes, raised her eyebrows and smiled very softly.

Silly! - hugging her, kissing and gently pushing her away, said Olga. - Go away, Zhenya, and don't interfere. You'd better run to the well for water.

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

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

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

“And your sister,” Zhenya continued, taking out the accordion, “I think her name is Olga?”

Zhenya, don't interfere and don't touch the instrument! Olga involuntarily repeated, listening involuntarily.

- "Very," he says, "your sister plays well. Doesn't she want to study at the conservatory?" (Zhenya took out an accordion and threw the strap over her shoulder.) "No," I tell him, "she's already studying reinforced concrete." And then he says: "Ah!" (Here Zhenya pressed one key.) And I told him: "Be-e!" (Here Zhenya pressed another key.)

Bad girl! Put the instrument back! jumping up, shouted Olga. - Who allows you to enter into conversations with some uncles?

Well, I’ll put it down, - Zhenya was offended. - I didn't join. He entered. I wanted to tell you more, but now I won't. Just wait, dad will come, he will show you!

To me? This will show you. You interfere with my work.

No, you! - Grabbing an empty bucket, Zhenya responded from the porch. - I'll tell him how you chase me a hundred times a day either for kerosene, or for soap, or for water! I'm not your truck, horse or tractor.

She brought water, put a bucket on the bench, but since Olga, not paying attention to this, sat bent over a book, offended Zhenya went into the garden.

Getting out onto the lawn in front of an old two-story barn, Zhenya took a slingshot from his pocket and, pulling on an elastic band, launched a small cardboard paratrooper into the sky.

Taking off upside down, the parachutist rolled 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 barn, through the leaky roof of which thin rope wires ran in all directions. She dragged a rotten ladder to the window and, climbing it, jumped down to the floor of the attic.

Very strange! This loft was inhabited. On the wall hung coils of rope, a lantern, two crossed signal flags, and a map of the village, all streaked with incomprehensible signs. In the corner lay a heap of straw covered with burlap. There was an overturned plywood box right there. Near the leaky, mossy roof stuck out a large, similar to the steering wheel. Above the wheel hung a makeshift telephone.

Zhenya peered through the crack. In front of her, like the waves of the sea, the foliage of dense gardens swayed. Pigeons 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 will be the captain herself.

She became cheerful. She turned the steering wheel. The tight rope wires trembled, hummed. The wind roared and drove green waves. And it seemed to her that it was her barn ship slowly and calmly turning over the waves.

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

Breaking through the cracks in the roof, the narrow direct rays of the sun fell on her face and dress. But Zhenya realized that it was the enemy ships that were groping her with their searchlights, and she decided to give them a fight. With force she controlled the creaking wheel, maneuvering right and left, and commandingly shouting the words of the command.

But then the sharp direct beams of the searchlight faded, went out. And this, of course, is not the sun went behind a cloud. This defeated enemy squadron went to the bottom.

The fight was over. Zhenya wiped her forehead with a dusty palm, and suddenly a telephone rang on the wall. Zhenya did not expect this; she thought this phone was just a toy. She became uncomfortable. She picked up the phone.

Hello! Hello! Answer. What kind of donkey breaks the wires and gives signals, stupid and incomprehensible?

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

Crazy girl! - sharply and almost frightened shouted the same voice. - Leave the steering wheel and run away. Now ... people will come running, 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 after him climbed more and more boys.

Who you are? - Stepping back from the window, Zhenya asked in fear. - 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 a corner, Zhenya screamed.

At the same moment, another shadow flickered through the gap. Everyone turned around and parted. And in front of Zhenya stood a tall, dark-haired boy in a blue sleeveless jacket, on whose chest a red star was embroidered.

Hush, Zhenya! he said loudly. - You don't have to shout. Nobody will touch you. Are we familiar. I am Timur.

Are you Timur? Zhenya exclaimed incredulously, opening her eyes full of tears. - Did you cover me with a sheet at night? Did you leave a note on my desk? You sent a telegram to dad at the front, and 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 by the 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 laid out a map of the village in front of him, the guys settled down.

At the hole above the dormer window, an observer hung on a rope swing. A lace with dented binoculars was thrown over his neck.

Zhenya sat not far from Timur and listened carefully and watched 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 that she (he pointed to Zhenya) had broken.

He'll oversleep, - glumly put in a big-headed Geik, dressed in a sailor's vest. - He wakes up only for breakfast and dinner.

Slander! jumping up and stammering, exclaimed Kolya Kolokolchikov. - I get up with the first ray of the sun.

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

At this, the watchman who was dangling on the ropes whistled. The guys jumped up.

On the road, a horse-artillery battalion raced in clouds of dust. Mighty horses dressed in belts and iron quickly dragged behind them green charging boxes and cannons covered with gray covers.

The weather-beaten, tanned riders, without swinging in the saddle, dashingly turned the corner, and one after the other the batteries hid in the grove. The division is gone.

It was they who went to the station to load, - Kolya Kolokolchikov explained importantly. - I can see by their uniforms: when they jump to training, when to the parade, and when and where else.

You see - and be silent! Gaika stopped him. - We ourselves with eyes. You know, guys, this talker wants to run away to the Red Army!

You can't, - Timur intervened. - This idea is completely empty.

How can you not? Kolya asked, blushing. - And why did the boys always run to the front before?

That before! And now firmly, firmly, all the chiefs and commanders are ordered to drive our brother out of there in the neck.

How about the neck? exclaimed Kolya Kolokolchikov, flaring up and blushing even more. - Is it ... their own?

Yes! .. - And Timur sighed. - It's their own! Now guys, let's get down to business.

Everyone took their seats.

In the garden of house number thirty-four on Krivoy Lane, unknown boys shook the apple tree, ”Kolya Kolokolchikov reported offendedly. - They broke two branches and crushed the flower bed.

Whose house? - And Timur looked into the oilcloth notebook. - The house of the Red Army soldier Kryukov. Who is the former specialist in other people's orchards and apple trees here?

Who could do it?

This was the work of Mishka Kvakin and his assistant, called "Figure". The apple tree - Michurinka - is a variety of golden filling, and, of course, is taken as a choice.

Again and again Kvakin! Timur thought. - Geika! Did you have a conversation with him?

So what?

Gave him twice in the neck.

Well, he slipped me two times too.

Ek you have everything - "gave" yes "put" ... But there is no sense in something. Okay! We will take special care of Kvakin. Let's go further.

In house number twenty-five, an old woman's milkmaid took her son into the cavalry, - someone said from the corner.

That's enough! And Timur shook his head reproachfully. - Yes, our sign was put on the gates of the third day. And who set? Kolokolchikov, are you?

So why do you have the upper left ray of the star curved like a leech? Undertook to do - do it well. People will come and laugh. Let's go further.

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

At number fifty-four, Pushkareva Street, the goat disappeared. I go, I see - the old woman beats the girl. I shout: "Aunty, it's against the law to beat!" She says, "The goat is gone. Oh, damn you!" - "Yes, where did she disappear to?" - "And over there, in a ravine behind a copse; she gnawed a bast and fell through, as if the wolves had eaten her!"

Wait a minute! Whose house?

House of the Red Army soldier Pavel Guryev. The girl is his daughter, her name is Nyurka. Her grandmother thrashed her. What's the name, I don't know. The goat is gray, black from the back. My name is Manka.

Find the goat! Timur ordered. - There will be a team of four. You... you, you and you. All right, guys?

In house number twenty-two, the girl is crying,” Geika said, as if reluctantly.

Why is she crying?

He asked, he didn't say.

And you should have asked better. Maybe someone beat her ... hurt her?

He asked, he didn't say.

Is the girl big?

Four years.

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

Lieutenant Pavlov's house. The one that was recently killed at the border.

- "Asked - does not say"! - Timur mimicked Geika sadly. He frowned, thought. - Okay... It's me. You do not touch this matter.

Mishka Kvakin appeared on the horizon! - loudly reported the observer. - It's on the other side of the street. Eats an apple. Timur! Send a command: let them give him a poke or a back!

No need. 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 said again:

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

This is your sister? Kolya Kolokolchikov asked, pulling Zhenya by the sleeve. And, having received no answer, he importantly and offendedly warned: - Look, do not try to shout to her from here.

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

Don't mess with her, Geik teased Kolya, or she'll beat you up.

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

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

Lightly waving a plucked branch, Timur walked to cut Kvakin's way. Noticing this, Kvakin stopped. His flat face showed neither surprise nor fear.

Hello Commissioner! Tilting his head to the side, he said softly. - Where are you in such a hurry?

Hello, ataman! - Timur answered him in tone. - Towards you.

Glad to be a guest, but there is nothing to treat. Is it this? - He put his hand into his bosom and handed Timur an apple.

Stolen? Timur asked, biting into an apple.

They are the best,” Kvakin explained. - A sort of golden pouring. But here's the trouble: there is still no real ripeness.

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

Well, I saw it, - Kvakin was alert. - I, brother, see everything day and night.

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

Oh commissioner! How hot are you! - drawling words, said Kvakin. - Stop talking!

Oh, ataman, how stubborn you are, - Timur answered without raising his voice. - And now remember yourself and tell the whole gang that this conversation will be the last between us.

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

I don’t know,” the thrush answered heartily. - Probably the same bully and ugly. He hangs around all around your house. You look, dear, no matter how they beat your little sister.

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

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 down from the attic and through the holes in the fences, or even right through the fences, ran up to their houses in different directions. Timur approached Zhenya.

Well? - he asked. - Do you understand everything now?

Everything, - Zhenya answered, - but not very much yet. You explain to me easier.

Then come down and follow me. Your sister is not at home right now anyway.

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

It was already dark, but Zhenya trustingly followed him.

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

Confidently, he leveled the rays, sharpened and straightened.

Say why? Zhenya asked him. - Can you explain to me more simply: what does it all mean?

Timur put the tube in his pocket. He plucked a burdock leaf, wiped off his painted finger, and, looking Zhenya in the face, said:

And this means that a person left this house for 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 replied with excitement and pride. - He's the commander.

It means that 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! Timur said. - And from this house a man went to the Red Army. But he is no more. This is the dacha of Lieutenant Pavlov, who was recently killed at the border. Here lives his wife and that little girl, whom the good Geika never got, which is why she often cries. And if it happens to you, then do something good for her, Zhenya.

He said all this very simply, but goosebumps ran over Zhenya's chest and arms, and the evening was warm and even stuffy.

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

Is Geika good?

Yes, Timur replied. - He is the son of a sailor, a sailor. He often scolds the kid and the braggart Kolokolchikov, but he himself stands up for him everywhere and always.

The shout, sharp and even angry, made them turn around. Olga was standing nearby.

Zhenya touched Timur's hand: she wanted to let him down and introduce Olga to him.

But a new cry, stern and cold, forced her to refuse it.

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

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

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

But, Olya, you don't understand anything! Zhenya exclaimed in despair. She winced. She wanted to explain, justify. But she couldn't. She had no right. And, waving her hand, she did not say another word to her sister.

She immediately got into bed. But I couldn't sleep for a long time. And when she fell asleep, she never heard how they knocked on the window at night and submitted a telegram from her father.

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

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

Timur ran up to the sweating Sima Simakov, who was turning the lever of the well pump without a break, and asked:

Have you seen Kolokolchikov here? Not? So he overslept. Hurry, hurry up! The old woman is going 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 peered into the room. From the tree, he could only see half of the bed pushed up to the windowsill and his legs wrapped in a blanket.

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

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, hooking the blanket with the knot, dragged it towards him.

A light blanket crawled over the windowsill. A hoarse, startled yell echoed through the room. A grey-haired gentleman in his underwear jumped out of bed with his sleepy eyes wide open and, grabbing the creeping blanket with his hand, ran to the window.

Finding himself face to face with the venerable old man, Timur immediately flew off the tree.

And the gray-haired gentleman, throwing a reclaimed blanket on the bed, pulled off a double-barreled shotgun from the wall, hastily put on his glasses and, pointing the gun out of the window with the muzzle to the sky, screwed up his eyes and fired.

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

Then Timur saw that the old milkmaid with a yoke and buckets was coming out of the gate for water. He darted behind an acacia tree and watched. Returning from the well, the old woman picked up the bucket, knocked it over into the barrel and immediately jumped back, because the water splashed out with noise and splashes from the barrel, already filled to the brim, right under her feet.

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

Timur laughed and stepped out of 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 shed, Timur looked into the open window overlooking the garden.

Zhenya was sitting at the table near the bed in shorts and a T-shirt and, impatiently pushing back her hair that had fallen on her forehead, she was writing something.

When she saw Timur, she was not afraid and was not even surprised. She only shook her finger at him so that he would not wake Olga, thrust the half-finished letter into the box, 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 fix the broken wires herself.

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

I don't know why, but my sister really hates you.

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

He wanted to leave, but she stopped him:

Stop, brush your hair. You are very shaggy today.

She took out a comb, handed it to Timur, and immediately behind, from the window, came Olga's indignant cry:

Zhenya! What are you doing?...

The sisters stood on the terrace.

I don't choose your acquaintances, - Zhenya defended herself desperately. - What? Very simple. In white suits. "Oh, how beautifully your sister plays!" Wonderful! You'd better listen to how beautifully she swears. Here look! I already write about everything to my dad.

Evgenia! This boy is a hooligan, and you are stupid, - Olga said coldly, trying to seem calm. - If you want, write to dad, please, but if I ever see you with this boy next to me, then on the same day I will leave the cottage, and we will leave here for Moscow. And you know that my word is firm.

Yes... tormentor! Zhenya answered with tears. - That's something I know.

Now take it and read it. - Olga put the telegram received at night on the table and left.

The telegram read:

"The other day I'll be passing through Moscow for a few hours. I'll telegraph the clock additionally period Papa."

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

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

Two cartloads of firewood were brought to the courtyard of the house where the goat disappeared from 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 not up to her. Clearing her throat, she sat down on the step, caught her breath, took a watering can and went into the garden. Now only three-year-old brother Nyurka remained in the yard - a man, apparently, energetic and industrious, because as soon as the grandmother disappeared, he picked up a stick and began to beat with it on the bench and on the trough turned upside down.

Then Sima Simakov, who had just hunted for a runaway goat that galloped through the bushes and ravines no worse than an Indian tiger, left one person from his team at the edge, and with four others burst into the yard with a whirlwind.

He put a handful of wild strawberries into the baby's mouth, thrust into his hands a shiny feather from the wing of a jackdaw, and the whole four rushed to stack firewood in a woodpile.

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

The grandmother picked up cucumbers in her hem and was about to go into the yard.

Sima Simakov softly knocked on the boards of the fence.

Grandma was worried. Then Sima picked up a stick and began to move the branches of the apple tree with it.

Grandmother immediately thought that someone was quietly climbing over the fence for apples. She poured cucumbers on the boundary, pulled out a large bunch of nettles, crept up and hid near the fence.

Sima Simakov again looked into the crack, but now he did not see the grandmother. Worried, he jumped up, grabbed the edge of the fence and carefully began to pull himself up.

But at the same time, with a triumphant cry, the grandmother jumped out of her ambush and deftly lashed Sima Simakov on the hands with nettles.

Waving his burnt hands, Sima rushed to the gate, from where the four who had finished their work were already running out.

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

Behind this occupation, the grandmother who returned from the garden found him. Goggling her eyes, she stopped in front of a neatly folded woodpile and asked:

Who is working here without me?

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

And you, grandmother, do not see - I'm working.

The milkmaid entered the yard, and the two old women began to discuss these strange occurrences with water and firewood animatedly. They tried to get an answer from the baby, but achieved little. He explained to them that people jumped out of the gate, put sweet strawberries in his mouth, gave him a feather and promised to catch him a hare with two ears and four legs. And then the firewood left and again sped away.

Nyurka entered the gate.

Nyurka, - her grandmother asked, - did you see who jumped into our yard now?

I was looking for a goat, - Nyurka answered dejectedly. - I've been galloping all morning through the forest and through the ravines.

Stole! - the grandmother complained sadly to the milkmaid. - And what a goat! Well, a dove, not a goat. Pigeon!

Pigeon! - moving away from the grandmother, snapped Nyurka. - As soon as it starts to snoop around with horns, you don’t know where to go. Pigeons don't have horns.

Shut up, Nurka! Shut up, you stupid bastard! Grandma screamed. - Of course, it was a goat with character. And I wanted to sell her, the goat. And now my dove is gone.

The gate creaked open. Lowering its horns low, a goat ran into the yard and rushed straight at the milkmaid. Picking up a heavy can, the milkmaid jumped up on the porch with a screech, and the goat, hitting the wall with its horns, stopped.

And then everyone saw that a plywood poster was firmly screwed to the goat's horns, on which it was large-scaled:

I am a goat-goat, All people are a thunderstorm.

Who will beat Nyurka, Tom will have a bad life.

And on the corner behind the fence, happy children laughed. Having stuck a stick in the ground, stomping around it, dancing, Sima Simakov proudly sang:

We are not a gang and not a gang, Not a gang of daredevils, We are a cheerful team of pioneers, well done, Wow, you!

And, like a flock of swifts, the guys quickly and silently rushed away.

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

Nobody knew how ultimatums were made, 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 most perfect respect for you."

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

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

Behind the gray gate 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 blond girl was walking along a 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 lush bouquet of wildflowers. In front of 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, does not promise anything, and yet encourages and tells him that people are close and he is not alone in the dark forest.

Holding the doll upside down, so that its wooden arms and stump 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 jerked his paw, strumming the strings of a painted balalaika, and his muzzle was sad and funny.

Fascinated by such an inexplicable miracle, which, of course, has no equal in the world, the girl dropped the doll, went up to the fence, and the kind hare obediently fell right into her hands. And after the hare, the sly and contented face of Zhenya looked out.

The girl looked at Zhenya and asked:

Are you playing with me?

Yes with you. Do you want me to jump on you?

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

Nothing, - jumping off the fence, Zhenya said, - I'm not afraid. Show me what kind of 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 hold 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 disturb her sister, because she was crying a lot this morning. But when Zhenya climbed the fence and jumped into someone else's garden, worried Olga left the house, went to the gate and opened the gate.

Zhenya and the 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 worried face, the woman guessed that Olga, who had entered the garden, was dissatisfied.

Don't be angry with her, the woman said softly to Olga. - She's just playing with my girl. We have grief ... - The woman paused. - I'm crying, but she ... - The woman pointed to her tiny daughter and added quietly: - But she doesn't 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'm alone, - continued the woman. - 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, who had come up, on the shoulder and, pointing to the window, asked:

Girl, didn't you put this bouquet on my porch at night?

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

Who? - And Olga looked at Zhenya incomprehensibly.

I don't know, - Zhenya spoke, frightened, - it's not me. I do not know anything. Look, people are coming here.

The sound 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 their caps, and, apparently, having heard her last words, the eldest - the captain - said:

Neither to the Crimea, nor to the Caucasus, nor to a resort, nor to a sanatorium. Did you want to see your mother? Your mother is leaving Irkutsk by train today. She was delivered to Irkutsk on a special plane.

By whom? - the woman exclaimed joyfully and perplexedly. - By you?

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

A little girl ran up, boldly looked at the visitors, 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 no! - picking up and squeezing her daughter, exclaimed her mother. - No, don't fly as far... as your dad.

On Malaya Ovrazhnaya, behind a chapel with peeling paintings depicting stern, hairy elders and clean-shaven angels, to the right of the Last Judgment painting with cauldrons, pitch 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", "to click" and to "revive the dead." The loser was blindfolded, laid with his back on the grass and given a candle, that is, a long stick, in his hands. And with this stick, he had to blindly fight off his good brothers, who, pitying the deceased, tried to bring him back to life, diligently lashing nettles on his bare knees, calves and heels.

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

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

The staff trumpeter Kolya Kolokolchikov clutched a shiny copper bugle in his hand, and the stern, barefoot Geika held a package glued from brown paper.

What kind of circus or comedy is this? - Leaning over the fence, asked the boy, whose name was Figure. - Bear! Turning around, he yelled. - Drop the cards, some ceremony has come to you!

I'm here, - climbing onto the fence, Kvakin replied. - Hey, Geyka, great! And what's the deal with you asshole?

Take the package,” said Geika, holding out an ultimatum. You have twenty-four hours to think. I'll be back tomorrow at the same time for an answer.

Offended by the fact that he was called a squishy, ​​the staff trumpeter Kolya Kolokolchikov threw up his horn and, puffing out his cheeks, furiously blew the all-clear. And, without saying another word, under the curious glances of the boys scattered along the fence, both truce guards retired with dignity.

What is this? - Kvakin asked, turning the package over and looking around at the gaping mouths of the guys. - They lived and lived, they didn’t grieve about anything ... Suddenly ... a trumpet, a thunderstorm! I, brothers, really do not understand anything! ..

He tore open the package and, without climbing down from the fence, began to read.

- "To the ataman of the gang for cleaning other people's gardens, Mikhail Kvakin ..." This is for me, - Kvakin explained loudly. - With a full title, in all form. "...and his," he continued to read, "the infamous assistant Pyotr Pyatakov, otherwise known simply as the Figure..." That's for you, Kvakin explained to the Figure with satisfaction. - Ek they wrapped: "infamous"! This is something very noble, they could call a fool even simpler. "...and also to all members of this disgraceful company an ultimatum." I don't know what it is," Kvakin announced mockingly. “Probably a swear word or something like that.

It's such an international word. They will beat him, - explained the shaven-headed boy Alyoshka, who was standing next to the Figure.

Oh, that's how they wrote it! Kvakin said. - I read on. Point one:

“In view of the fact that you raid the gardens of civilians at night, not sparing even those houses on which our sign - a red star stands, and even those on which there is a star with a mourning black border, we order you, cowardly scoundrels ..."

Look how the dogs swear! - Kvakin continued, embarrassed, but trying to smile. - And what further syllable, what commas! Yes!

"... we order: no later than tomorrow morning, Mikhail Kvakin and the infamous figure Figure to come to the place that the messengers will indicate to them, having in their hands a list of all the members of your shameful gang.

And in case of refusal, we reserve complete freedom of action."

That is, in what sense is freedom? Kvakin asked again. We don't seem to have locked them up yet.

It's such an international word. They will beat you, - the shaven-headed Alyoshka explained again.

And then they would say so! - with annoyance said Kvakin. - It's a pity that Geika left; Apparently he hasn't cried in a long time.

He will not cry, - said the shaven-headed one, - his brother is a sailor.

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

What about you?

And the fact that my uncle is a sailor too.

Here's the fool! Kvakin got angry. - That father, then brother, then uncle. And what's what - is unknown. Grow your hair, Alyosha, otherwise the sun has baked the back of your head. And what are you mumbling about, Figure?

The messengers must be caught tomorrow, and Timka and his company must be beaten up, ”Figure, offended by the ultimatum, suggested shortly and gloomily.

That's what they decided on.

Stepping back into the shade of the chapel and stopping together near the picture, where nimble, muscular devils were deftly dragging the howling and resisting sinners into the inferno, Kvakin asked Figure:

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

So…” Kvakin muttered with annoyance, poking his finger at the wall. - Of course, I don’t give a damn about Timka’s signs, and I will always beat Timka ...

Okay, Figure agreed. - Why are you pointing your finger at the devil?

Otherwise,” Kvakin answered him, twisting his lips, “even though you are my friend, Figure, you don’t look like a person in any way, but rather like this fat and filthy devil.

In the morning, the thrush did not find three regular customers at home. It was already too late to go to the market, and, having put the can on her shoulders, she went to the apartments. She walked for a long time to no avail and finally stopped near the dacha where Timur lived. Behind the fence, she heard a thick, pleasant voice: someone was singing softly. So, the owners were at home and here one could expect good luck.

Passing through the gate, the old woman shouted in a singsong voice:

Do you need milk, milk?

Two mugs! came a bass voice in response.

Throwing off a can from her shoulder, the milkmaid turned around and saw a shaggy, lame-legged old man dressed in rags coming out of the bushes, who was holding a curved naked saber in his hand.

I, father, say, don't you need milk? - Shy and backing away, offered the thrush. - How serious you are, my father! What are you doing, mowing grass with a saber?

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

You should buy a scythe, father, - the milkmaid said hastily pouring milk into a jug and looking warily at the old man. - A saber is better to throw. With a sort of saber, a simple person can be scared to death.

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

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

The old man fumbled and pulled out a large, tattered revolver from his pocket.

I, father, then ... - picking up the can and hastily moving away, the milkmaid spoke. - You, my dear, do not work! - adding speed and not ceasing to turn around, she continued. - To me, golden, money is not in a hurry.

She ran out the gate, slammed it shut, and shouted angrily from the street:

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

The old man shrugged his shoulders, put the trifle he had taken out from there back into his pocket, and immediately hid the revolver behind his back, because an elderly gentleman, Dr. F. G. Kolokolchikov, entered the garden.

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

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

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

I live in this dacha, - the old man answered.

In this case, - putting his hand to the straw hat, the gentleman continued, - you will tell me: is there a certain boy, Timur Garaev, related to you?

Yes, it is necessary, - the old man answered. 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 on 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 get excited, continued the gentleman. - He made an attempt during my sleep to steal the flannelette blanket that covered me.

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

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

Of course, I would not argue, but the facts ... the facts! Your Majesty! I beg you, don't come near me. Of course, I don't know what to ascribe to... But your appearance, your strange behavior...

Listen, - the old man said, walking towards the gentleman, - but all this is obviously a misunderstanding.

Your Majesty! - without taking his eyes off the revolver and without ceasing to back away, cried the gentleman. - Our conversation takes an undesirable and, I would say, unworthy of our age direction.

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

No, no, unwanted and unworthy direction...

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

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

Then the old man laughed. Excited and delighted, smartly stamping his piece of wood, he sang: And you won’t understand On a fast plane, As I expected you until dawn, Yes!

He unfastened the belt at his knee, flung his wooden leg onto the grass, and, ripping off his wig and beard as he went, rushed to the house.

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

At eleven o'clock Geika and Kolya Kolokolchikov set out to get an answer to the ultimatum.

You go straight, - Geika grumbled at Kolya. - You walk lightly, firmly. And you walk like a chicken galloping after a worm. And everything is fine with you, brother, - both trousers, and a shirt, and the whole uniform, but you still don’t have a look. You, brother, do not be offended, I'm talking to you. Well, tell me: why are you going and procrastinating your lips with your tongue? You put your tongue in your mouth, and let it lie there in its place ... And why did you appear? Geyka asked, seeing Sima Simakov jumping out of the way.

Timur sent me to communicate, - Simakov chattered. - So it is necessary, and you do not understand anything. You have yours, and I have my own. Kolya, let me blow the pipe. How important you are today! Geeka, fool! You go on business - would put on boots, boots. Do ambassadors go barefoot?

Okay, you go there and I go here. Hop-hop, goodbye!

Such a buffoon! Geika shook his head. - He will say a hundred words, but maybe four. Blow, Nikolai, here is the fence.

Bring up Mikhail Kvakin! - ordered Geyka to the boy leaning out from above.

And go right! shouted Kvakin from behind the fence. - The gates are open for you on purpose.

Don't go, - Kolya whispered, tugging at Geika's hand. - They'll catch us and beat us up.

Is it all for two? Geika asked haughtily. - Trumpet, Nikolai, louder. Our team is everywhere the road.

They passed through a rusty iron gate and found themselves in front of a group of guys, in front of which stood Figure and Kvakin.

Let's answer the letter, Geika said firmly.

Kvakin smiled, Figure frowned.

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

Let's answer the letter, Geika repeated coldly. - We'll talk to you later.

And it was strange, incomprehensible: was he playing, was he joking, this straight, stocky boy in a sailor's vest, next to whom stood a small, already pale trumpeter? Or, screwing up his stern gray eyes, barefoot, broad-shouldered, does he really demand an answer, feeling both right and strength behind him?

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

Geika unfolded the sheet. There was a crudely drawn fico, 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 should fill your neck, ”Kvakin said, approaching Geika. - But... we are kind people. Until night we will lock you up here, - he pointed to the chapel, - and at night we will clean the garden at number twenty-four naked.

It will not happen,” Geika replied evenly.

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

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

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

Well? - Approaching the door and putting his hand to his mouth, shouted Figure. - How is it now: in our opinion or in your opinion it will come out?

And from behind the door muffled, barely audible came:

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

The figure spat.

He has a sailor brother, - the shaven-headed Alyoshka explained gloomily. - They serve on the same ship with my uncle.

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

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

On you too! Figure got angry and hit Alyoshka with a 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 foliage of the linden that grew near the fence, Sima Simakov's face flashed.

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

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

Zhenya was swimming. Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the shoulders. She turned around.

Hello, - the tall dark-eyed girl said to her. - I sailed from Timur. My name is Tanya, and I am also from his team. He regrets that because of him you got hit by your sister. Do you have a sister who is very angry?

Let him not regret, - Zhenya muttered, blushing. - Olga is not evil at all, she has such a character. - And, clasping her hands, Zhenya added in despair: - Well, sister, sister and sister! Wait, dad is coming...

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

Girl, do you recognize me? - as always quickly and through her teeth, she asked Zhenya. - Yes! I recognized you right away. And there is Timur! - throwing off her dress, she pointed to the opposite shore strewn with children. - I know who caught a goat for me, who laid firewood for us and who gave strawberries to my brother. And I know you too, - she turned to Tanya. - You once sat in the garden and cried. And don't you cry. What's the point? Gay! Sit down, you 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 looked at each other. She was very funny, this little, tanned, resembling a gypsy Nyurka.

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

Well, did you jump?

Jumped!

And they jumped into the water at once.

But before the girls had time to emerge, someone fourth floundered after them.

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

Trouble, Zhenya! Trouble! he shouted, turning around. - Geika and Kolya were ambushed!

Reading a book, Olga went uphill. And where a steep path crossed the road, she was met by George standing near the motorcycle. They said hello.

I was driving, - Georgy explained to her, - I see you are coming. Give, I think, I'll wait and give a ride, if on the way.

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

Well, right, - George agreed. - I wanted to lie, but it did not work out. I owe you an apology for frightening you this morning. But the lame old man at the gate - that was me. It was me in makeup getting ready for the rehearsal. Get in, I'll give you a ride in the car.

Olga shook her head.

He put her bouquet on the book.

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

George did not expect this.

Listen! he said sadly. - You play well, sing, your eyes are straight, bright. I didn't offend you. But I think that people do not act like you ... even the most reinforced concrete specialty.

Flowers are not needed! - she herself, frightened of her act, answered Olga guiltily. - I ... and so, without flowers, I will go with you.

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

The road forked, but, passing the one that turned to the village, the motorcycle broke out into the field.

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

Here the road is better, - George answered, - here the road is cheerful.

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

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

This is our factory! George shouted to Olga. - Three years ago I went here to pick mushrooms and strawberries.

Almost without slowing down, the car turned sharply.

Directly! Olga shouted warningly. - Let's just go straight home.

Suddenly the engine stopped and they stopped.

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

He laid the car on the grass under a birch, took out a key from his bag and began to twist and tighten something.

Who 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, - without ceasing to fiddle with a motorcycle, George answered. - He's an ex-partisan, and he's a little... out of his mind. He lives near the border, and it always seems to him that the enemies will outwit us and deceive us. He is old, but he is careful. The Red Army soldiers are young - they laugh, after the guard they play volleyball. The girls there are different... Katyushas!

George frowned and sang softly:

Behind the clouds, the moon again faded, I have not slept in the third night in a deaf watch.

Enemies crawl in silence. Don't sleep, my country!

I am old. I am weak. Oh, woe to me... oh, woe!

Old man, calm down... calm down!

What does "quietly" mean? - Olga asked, wiping her dusty lips with a handkerchief.

And that means, - continuing to knock the key on the bushing, Georgy explained, - it means that: sleep well, old fool! For a long time already all the fighters and commanders have been standing 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 tells me "be"!

With this funny girl you will have a taste of grief, ”Olga repeated again. - Some boy has become attached to her, his name is Timur. He is from the company of the hooligan Kvakin. And I can’t drive him away from our house.

Timur! .. Hm ... - Georgy coughed embarrassedly. - Is he from the company? He seems to be not that ... not very ... Well, okay! Don't worry... I'll drive him away from your house. Olya, why don't you study at the conservatory? Think engineer! I'm an engineer myself, so what's the point?

Are you a bad engineer?

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

Listen, George, - Olga said, moving away embarrassedly. - I don't know what kind of engineer you are, but ... you fix the car in a very strange way.

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

Nothing is strange. Everything is done the way it should be. 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 also a leader myself.

Who will understand you! Olga shrugged. - Either you are an engineer, then you are an actor, then you are a commander. Maybe you are also a pilot?

No, George chuckled. - The pilots are jamming their heads with bombs from above, and we are hitting from the ground through iron and concrete right in the heart.

And again rye, fields, groves, a river flashed before them. Finally, here is the cottage.

Zhenya jumped out of the terrace at the crash of a motorcycle. Seeing George, she was embarrassed, but when he sped off, then, looking after him, Zhenya went up to Olga, hugged her and said enviously:

Oh, how happy you are today!

Having agreed to meet near the garden of house No. 24, the boys fled from behind the fence.

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

Then the figure 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? - Rushing to the door, Figure got angry. - Hey, do not indulge, otherwise I will give you a neck!

But they didn't answer him. Outside, voices were heard. Shutter hinges creaked. Someone was talking to the prisoners through the bars of the window.

Then there was laughter from inside the chapel. And from this laughter the Figure became ill.

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

Open the second bolt! - not moving, ordered Timur. - Open yourself, or it will be worse!

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

Get in their place! Timur ordered. - Climb, you bastard, quickly! he yelled, clenching his fists. - I have no time to talk to you!

They slammed both doors behind the Figure. They put a heavy crossbar on the loop and hung the lock.

Then Timur took a piece of paper and wrote clumsily with a blue pencil:

"Kvakin, there's no need to watch. I've locked them up, I've got the key. I'll come straight to the place, to the garden, in the evening."

Then everyone disappeared. Five minutes later Kvakin came over the fence.

He read the note, touched the lock, grinned, and went to the gate, while the locked Figure was frantically pounding on the iron door with his fists and heels.

From the gate Kvakin turned round and muttered indifferently:

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

Before sunset, Timur and Simakov ran to the market square. Where stalls lined up in disorder - kvass, water, vegetables, tobacco, groceries, ice cream - a clumsy empty booth stuck out at the very edge, in which shoemakers worked on market days.

Timur and Simakov did not stay long in this booth.

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 arrived. The boys gathered, there were already a lot of them - twenty or thirty. And through the holes in the fences, more and more people slipped silently and silently.

Tanya and Nyurka were sent back. Zhenya was at home. She had to detain and not let Olga into the garden.

Timur was standing in the attic by the wheel.

Repeat the signal on the sixth wire, - Simakov asked anxiously, leaning out the window. - They don't answer.

Two boys were drawing some kind of poster on plywood. Ladygin's link approached.

Finally, the scouts arrived. Kvakin's gang was gathering in a wasteland near the garden of house no. 24.

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

He let go of the wheel, grabbed the rope. And above the old barn, under the uneven light of the moon running between the clouds, the team flag slowly rose and waved - a signal for battle.

Along the fence of house No. 24, a chain of a dozen boys was moving. Stopping in the shade, Kvakin said:

Everything is in place, but there is no figure.

He's smart, someone said. He must be in the garden already. He always climbs forward.

Kvakin pushed aside two boards that had been previously removed from the nails and crawled through the hole. The others followed him. There was only one sentry left in the street near the hole - Alyoshka.

Five heads peeped out of a ditch overgrown with nettles and weeds on the other side of 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 the head disappeared.

The sentry Alyoshka looked round. Everything was quiet, and he put his head through the hole to listen to what was going on inside the garden.

Three people separated from the ditch. And in the next moment, the sentry felt a strong force jerking him by the legs, by the arms. And, without having time to shout, he flew off the fence.

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

From there,” hissed Geika. - Look, shut up! And then I will not see that you stood up for me.

All right, - agreed Alyoshka, - I am silent. And suddenly he whistled piercingly.

But immediately his mouth was clamped by Geiki's broad hand. Someone's hands grabbed him by the shoulders, by the legs and dragged him away.

A whistle was heard in the garden. Kvakin turned around. The whistle didn't happen again. Kvakin looked around attentively. Now it seemed to him that the bushes in the corner of the garden were moving.

Figure! Kvakin called softly. - Are you there, fool, hiding?

Bear! Fire! someone suddenly shouted. - It's the hosts coming!

But these were not the owners.

Behind, in the thick of the foliage, at least a dozen electric lamps flared up. And, blinding their eyes, they rapidly approached the confused raiders.

Bay, don't back down! - Kvakin shouted, snatching an apple from his pocket and throwing it at the lights. - Tear the lanterns with your hands! It's him coming... Timka!

There is Timka, and here is Simka! barked Simakov, bursting out from behind a bush.

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

Hey! yelled Kvakin. Yes, they have power! Get over the fence guys!

The ambushed gang rushed to the fence in a panic.

Pushing and bumping their foreheads, the boys jumped out into the street and fell straight into the hands of Ladygin and Geika. The moon is completely hidden behind the clouds. Only voices were heard:

Don't climb! Don't touch!

Geika is here!

Lead everyone to their place.

What if no one goes?

Grab your hands and feet and drag with honor, like an icon of the Virgin.

Let go, damn it! came a crying voice.

Who is screaming? Timur asked angrily. - To hooligan the master, but you are afraid to answer! Geika, give the command, move!

The captives were led to an empty booth on the edge of the market square. Then one by one they were pushed through the door.

Mikhail Kvakin to me, - Timur asked.

They let Kvakin in.

Ready? Timur asked.

Everything is ready.

The last prisoner was pushed into the booth, the bolt was pulled, and a heavy lock was thrust into the hole.

Go, - then Timur said to Kvakin. - You are funny. You are not afraid of anyone and do not need.

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

Go, - repeated Timur. “Take this key and unlock the chapel where your friend Figure sits.

Kvakin did not leave.

Unlock the guys, - he asked gloomily. - Or put me with them.

No, - Timur refused, - now it's all over. Neither they have anything to do with you, nor you with them.

To the whistle, noise and hooting, with his head buried in his shoulders, Kvakin slowly walked away. After walking a dozen paces, he stopped and straightened up.

I will beat! he shouted angrily, turning to Timur. - I'll beat you alone. One on one, to death! And jumping away, he disappeared into the darkness.

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

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

Okay. Work!

A horn blared from the station nearby. The suburban train has arrived. Passengers got off it, and Timur hurried.

Simakov and your five, what do you have?

Okay, work! Well, now... people are coming here. The rest are all at home ... Together!

Thunder and thuds resounded across the square. Passers-by walking from the train shied away and stopped. The knock and howl was repeated. Lights lit up in the windows of neighboring cottages. Someone turned on the light above the stall, and the crowded people saw this poster above the tent:

PASSING BY, DO NOT SORRY!

Here sit people who are cowardly at night

plunder the gardens of civilians.

The key to the lock hangs behind this poster, and the one

whoever unlocks these prisoners, let him first look

Are there any relatives or friends among them?

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

The garden of the house where the little girl lives. Ropes descended from a branched tree. Following them, a boy slid down the rough trunk. He puts down the board, sits down and tries to see if they are strong, this new swing. The thick bough 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 sleeping: cheerful Simakov, silent Ladygin, funny Kolya. Tossing and turning, of course, and the brave Geika mumbles in his sleep.

The clock on the tower strikes quarters: "It was daytime - it was business! Ding-dong ... one, two!"

It's too late.

The boy gets up, rummages through the grass with his hands and picks up a heavy bouquet of wild flowers. Zhenya tore these flowers.

Careful, so as not to wake or frighten the sleeping ones, he ascends the moonlit porch and carefully places 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 walk.

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

Olga raised it and read:

"Girl, don't be afraid of anyone at home. Everything is in order, and no one will know anything from me. Timur."

"What won't he find out? Why don't you be afraid? What kind of secret does this secretive and crafty girl have? No! This must be put to an end. Dad was leaving, and he ordered ... We must act decisively and quickly."

George knocked on the window.

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

Yes... But a pianist can do it for you! Olga was surprised. Why the accordion?

Olya, I don't want a pianist. I want with you! We'll do well. Can I jump through the window to you? Leave the iron 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 offendedly, - in the end, you could not climb out the window when there are doors ...

The park was noisy. A string of cars with vacationers drove up. Trucks with sandwiches, rolls, bottles, sausages, sweets, gingerbread were dragged along.

Blue detachments of manual and wheeled ice-creamers approached in order. In the clearings, gramophones screamed discordantly, around which visitors and local summer residents were spread out with drink and food.

Music played. An old man on duty stood at the gate of the fence of the variety theater and scolded the fitter, who wanted to go through the gate along with his keys, belts and iron "cats".

With tools, dear, we do not miss here. It is a holiday today. You first go home, wash and dress.

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

Still can't. Here is singing. You would have dragged a telegraph pole with you. And you, citizen, go around too, - he stopped another person. - Here people sing... music. And you have a bottle sticking out of your pocket.

But, dear father, - the man tried to stutter, - I need ... I myself am a tenor.

Come in, come in, tenor, - the old man answered, pointing at the fitter. - Won bass doesn't mind. And you, tenor, don't mind either.

Zhenya, who was told by the boys that Olga had come onto the stage with an accordion, fidgeted impatiently on the bench.

Finally George and Olga came out. The wife was frightened: it seemed to her that they would start laughing at Olga now.

But no one laughed.

George and Olga stood on the stage, so simple, young and cheerful that Zhenya wanted to hug them both.

But then Olga threw a belt over her shoulder.

A deep wrinkle cut George's forehead, he stooped, bowed his head. Now it was an old man, and in a low sonorous voice he sang:

I haven't slept for three nights. I still see the same secret movement in gloomy silence, The rifle burns my hand. Anxiety gnaws at the heart, Like twenty years ago at night at war.

But if even now I meet with you, An enemy soldier of hired armies, Then I, a gray-haired old man, ready to fight, Calm and stern, as twenty years ago.

Ah, how good! And how sorry for this lame, bold old man! Well done, well done ... - Zhenya muttered. - Well well. Play Olga! The only pity is that our dad does not hear you.

After the concert, hand in hand, Georgy and Olga walked down the alley.

It’s all right,” Olga said. - But I don't know where Zhenya disappeared to.

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

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

George read the note. Now he thought for himself and frowned.

Don't be afraid - it means don't listen. Oh, and if this boy came under my arm, then I would talk to him!

Olga hid the note. For a while they were silent. But the music played very merrily, everyone around laughed, and, holding hands again, they walked along the avenue.

Suddenly, at a crossroads at point-blank range, they ran into 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! - pulling George's hand, Olga said desperately. - This is the same boy.

Yes, - George was embarrassed, - and most importantly, this is Timur - my desperate nephew.

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

Releasing 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 did she stumble upon Timur, who was standing in front of Figure and Kvakin.

Listen, - Olga said coming close to him. - It's not enough for you that you climbed and broke off all the gardens, even the old women, even the orphaned girl; it’s not enough for you that dogs run away from you - you spoil and set my sister against me. You have a pioneer tie around your neck, but you're just... a scoundrel.

Timur was pale.

It's not true, he said. - You don't know anything.

Olga waved her hand and ran to look for Zhenya. Timur stood silent. The perplexed Figure and Kvakin were silent.

Well, commissioner? asked Kvakin. - So you, I see, it is not fun?

Yes, ataman, - Timur answered slowly raising his eyes. - It's hard for me now, I'm sad. And it would be better if you caught me, stabbed me, beat me, than for me to listen because of you ... that's it.

Why were you silent? Kvakin chuckled. - You would say: this, they say, is not me. It's them. We were standing right next to each other.

Yes! You would have said, and we would have kicked you for it, - put in a delighted Figure.

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,” said Kvakin quietly. - Wants to cry, but is silent.

Let's give him one shot, he'll cry, - said the figure and launched a spruce cone after Timur.

He is ... proud, - Kvakin repeated hoarsely, - and you ... you are a bastard! - And, turning around, he blurted out the figure with his fist on the forehead.

The figure was taken aback, then howled and rushed to run. Twice catching up with him, Kvakin gave him a poke in the back.

At last Kvakin stopped, picked up his dropped cap; shaking it off, hit it on his knee, went up to the ice cream man, 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! Sim 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?

Do not know.

Tim! Geika said unexpectedly softly and took his comrade by the hand. - What is it? After all, we have done nothing wrong to anyone. And you know, if the person is right...

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

Timur left.

Zhenya approached Olga, who was carrying the accordion home.

Get away! Olga replied 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, at least until dawn.

But Olya...

I don't talk to you. The day after tomorrow we will move to Moscow. Let's wait for dad.

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

She sought out Geika and Simakov and asked where Timur was.

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

Zhenya stamped her foot in fury and, clenching her fists, exclaimed:

So... for nothing... and people disappear!

She hugged the trunk of a birch, but then Tanya and Nyurka jumped up to her.

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

They grabbed her, braked her and dragged her to the circle, inside which flickered bright as flowers, dresses, blouses and sundresses.

Jenny, don't cry! - just as always, Nyurka said quickly and through her teeth. - When my grandmother beats me, I don’t cry! Girls, let's better in a circle! .. Jumped!

- "R-burped"! Zhenya teased 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 nightly adventures, - said George. - Tired of signals, calls, ropes. What was this strange story with the blanket?

It was a mistake.

Good mistake! Don't mess with this girl anymore: her sister doesn't love you.

Do not know. So he deserved it. What are your notes? What are these strange meetings in the garden at dawn? Olga says that you are teaching the girl hooliganism.

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

Okay. But while you have not yet answered her, I forbid you to approach their dacha, and in general, if you will be self-willed, then 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 they play?

We? ... We ran, jumped, climbed on the roofs; they used to fight. But our games were simple and clear to everyone.

In order 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 calling at her place, she went to her friend, stayed with her until dark, and only at ten o'clock did she come 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 dad.

By evening, when the trucks had already left the park, Zhenya and Tanya ran to the dacha. A volleyball game was started, and Zhenya had to change her shoes for slippers.

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

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

I wanted to leave my daughter with you,” she said. - I did not know that there was no sister ... The train comes tonight, and I need to go to Moscow to meet my mother.

Leave her alone,” Zhenya said. - What about Olga ... But I'm not a man, or what? Put her on my bed and I'll lie down on the other one.

She sleeps calmly and now she will wake up only in the morning, - the mother was delighted. - You only occasionally need to approach her and adjust the pillow under her head.

The girl was undressed, laid down. Mother left. Zhenya pulled back the curtain so that the bed could be seen through the window, slammed the terrace door, and she and Tanya ran away to play volleyball, having agreed after each game to come running in turn and watch how the girl was sleeping.

They had just left when the postman entered the porch. He knocked for a long time, and since they did not answer him, he returned to the gate and asked a neighbor if the owners had left for the city.

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

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

An hour and a half passed. Again the postman approached the neighbor.

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

The neighbor signed. It was already quite dark. He went through the gate, climbed the steps of the terrace, and peered in at the window. The little girl was sleeping. A ginger kitten was lying on a pillow near her head. So, the owners were somewhere near the house. The neighbor opened the window and lowered 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, by the light of the moon, she straightened the girl who had slipped from the pillow, turned the kitten, undressed and went to bed.

She lay for a long time, thinking about: this is what life is like! And she is not to blame, and Olga seems to be, too. But for the first time they seriously quarreled with Olga.

It was very embarrassing. 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 became scared. With trembling hands, she tore off the sticker and read.

The first one was:

"I'll be traveling today from twelve at night to three in the morning period. 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 in horror. It was a quarter to twelve. Throwing on her dress and grabbing the sleepy child, Zhenya, like a madwoman, rushed to the porch. Changed my mind. She put the baby on the bed. She jumped out into the street and rushed to the house of the old milkmaid. She banged on the door with her fist and foot until the neighbor's head appeared in the window.

I'm not being mischievous, - Zhenya spoke pleadingly. - I need a milkmaid, Aunt Masha. I wanted to leave her a child.

And what are you building? - slamming the window, the neighbor answered. - The hostess left in the morning to visit her brother in the village.

From the direction 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.

Sorry! she muttered. - Do you know what train it is?

The gentleman took out his watch.

Twenty-three fifty-five, he replied. - This is the last one for Moscow today.

How's the last one? - Zhenya whispered, swallowing her tears. - When is the next one?

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

Oh no! - restraining sobs and running away, Zhenya answered. Now no one in the world can help me.

At home, she buried her head in the pillow, but immediately jumped up and looked angrily 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. She sat like that for a long time and seemed to be thinking of nothing. Inadvertently, she touched an accordion that was lying around right there. Automatically picked it up and began to sort out the keys. A melody sounded, solemn and sad. Zhenya rudely interrupted the game and went to the window. Her shoulders shook.

Not! She no longer has the strength to remain alone and endure such torment. She lit a candle and stumbled across the garden to the shed.

Here is the attic. Rope, map, bags, flags. She lit the lantern, went to the steering wheel, found the wire she needed, hooked it to the hook and turned the wheel sharply.

Timur was asleep when Rita touched him on the shoulder with her paw. He didn't feel the push. And, grabbing the blanket with her teeth, Rita pulled it to the floor.

Timur jumped up.

What are you? he asked, not understanding. - Something happened?

The dog looked into his eyes, wiggled its tail, shook 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 his face. He breathed quickly and abruptly.

And only for three hours? he asked nervously. Zhenya, are you crying? I hear... You're crying. Do not dare! No need! I will come soon...

He hung up and grabbed a train schedule off the shelf.

Yes, here it is, the last one, at twenty-three fifty-five. The next one will go only at three forty. He stands and bites his lips. - Late! Is there nothing that can be done? Not! 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 and sharp, gleam and flicker before his eyes.

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

He quickly dressed, ran out into the street, and a few minutes later he was already standing in front of the porch of the gray-haired gentleman's cottage.

The light was still on in the doctor's office. Timur knocked. It was opened to him.

Who are you to? asked the gentleman dryly and in surprise.

To you, - answered Timur.

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

They didn't speak for long.

That's all we do, - Timur finished his story with twinkling 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, lifted his head, looked into his eyes and went out.

He went into the room where Kolya was sleeping and pulled him by the shoulder. - Get up, - he said, - your name is.

But I don't know anything, - Kolya spoke with frightened goggles. - I, grandfather, really don't know anything.

Get up, the gentleman repeated dryly. Your friend has come for you.

In the attic, Zhenya was sitting on a pile of straw, hugging her knees with her hands. She was waiting for Timur. But instead of him, the disheveled head of Kolya Kolokolchikov stuck his head through the window.

It's you? Zhenya was surprised. - What do you want?

I don't know, - Kolya answered quietly and frightened. - I was asleep. He came. I wake up. He sent. He ordered that you and I go down to the gate.

I do not know. I myself have some kind of knocking, buzzing in my head. I, Zhenya, do not understand anything myself.

There was no one to ask permission. Uncle spent the night in Moscow. Timur lit a lantern, took an ax, called the dog Rita and went out into the garden. He stopped in front of the closed barn door.

He looked from the ax to the lock. Yes! He knew that it was impossible to do so, but there was no other way out. With a strong blow, he knocked down the lock and brought the motorcycle out of the barn.

Rita! he said bitterly, kneeling down and kissing the dog on the muzzle. - Don't be angry! I could not do otherwise.

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

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

Zhenya screamed with all her strength, hugged Timur and kissed him.

Sit down, Zhenya, sit down! - trying to seem severe, shouted Timur. - Hold on tight! Well, go ahead! Forward, let's move!

The motor crackled, the horn roared, and soon the red light disappeared from the eyes of the confused Kolya.

He stood for a moment, raised his stick and, holding it at the ready like a gun, walked around the brightly lit dacha.

Yes, - it is important to walk, he muttered. - Oh, and you are hard, soldier's service! You have no rest during the day, no rest at night!

The time was approaching three in the morning. Colonel Alexandrov was sitting at the table, on which stood a cold teapot and lay scraps of sausage, cheese and rolls.

I'll leave in half an hour," he said to Olga. - It's a pity that I didn't get to see Zhenya. Olga, 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 completely crazy. And she is so crazy.

Olya, - getting up, his father said, - I don’t know, I don’t believe that Zhenya could get into bad company, to be spoiled, to be commanded. Not! She doesn't have that kind of personality.

Here you go! Olga was upset. - Just tell her about it. She's already made it so that her character is the same as yours. And why is there such a thing! She climbed onto the roof, lowered the 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. From the third she grew up, I don’t give her one to wear yet. And I sewed three new ones for her. But everything on it is on fire. She is always bruised and scratched. And she, of course, will come up, fold her lips in a bow, goggle her blue eyes. Well, of course, everyone thinks - a flower, not a girl. And go. Wow! Flower! Touch and get burned. Dad, don't imagine that she has the same character as you. Just tell her about it! She will dance on the trumpet for three days.

Okay, - hugging Olga, the father agreed. - I will tell her. I will write to her. Well, you, Olya, don't push her too hard. You tell her that I love her and remember that we will return soon and that she must not cry for me, because she is the commander's daughter.

It will be all the same, - Olga said, clinging to her father. - And I'm the commander's daughter. And I will too.

Father looked at his watch, went to the mirror, put on his belt and began to pull at his tunic. Suddenly the outer door slammed. The curtain parted. And, somehow angularly shifting her 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 rumpled dress was stained. And Olga asked in fear:

Zhenya, where are you from? How did you get here?

Without turning her head, Zhenya waved her hand, and this meant: "Wait! .. Leave me alone! .. Don't ask! .."

Father took Zhenya in his arms, sat down on the sofa, put her on his knees. He looked into her face and wiped her stained forehead with his palm.

Yes OK! You are a good man, Zhenya!

But you're covered in mud, your face is black! How did you get here? Olga asked again.

Zhenya pointed to the curtain, and Olga saw Timur.

He was filming leather car leggings. His temple was smeared with yellow oil. He had the wet, tired face of a working man who had honestly done his job. Greeting everyone, he bowed his head.

Dad! - jumping up from his father's knees and running up to Timur, Zhenya said. - Don't trust anyone! They don't know anything. This is Timur - my very good friend.

Father stood up and, without hesitation, shook Timur's hand. A quick and triumphant smile crossed Zhenya's face - for a moment she looked searchingly at Olga. And she, confused, still perplexed, went up to Timur:

Well... hello then...

Soon the clock struck three.

Dad, - Zhenya was frightened, - are you getting up already? Our clock is fast.

No, Zhenya, that's for sure.

Dad, your watch is fast too. - She ran to the phone, dialed "time", and an even metallic voice came from the receiver:

Three hours four minutes!

Zhenya looked at the wall and said with a sigh:

Our people are in a hurry, but only for one minute. Dad, take us to the station with you, we'll walk you to the train!

No, Jenny, you can't. I won't have time there.

Why? Dad, do you already have a ticket?

In soft?

In soft.

Oh, how I would like to go with you far, far in soft! ..

And here is not a station, but some kind of station, similar to a commodity station near Moscow, perhaps, to Sorting. Ways, arrows, trains, wagons. People are not visible. An armored train is on the line. An iron window opened slightly, and the driver's face, illuminated by flames, flickered and disappeared. Zhenya's father, Colonel Alexandrov, is standing on the platform in a leather coat. The lieutenant comes up, salutes and asks:

Comrade commander, may I leave?

Yes! The Colonel looks at his watch: three hours fifty-three minutes. - Ordered to leave at three hours fifty-three minutes.

Colonel Alexandrov comes up to the car and looks. It's getting light, but the sky is cloudy. He takes hold of the wet handrails. A heavy door opens before him. And, putting his foot on the step, smiling, he asks himself:

In soft?

Yes! In soft...

The heavy steel door slams shut behind him. Exactly, without shocks, without clanging, all this armored bulk moves off and smoothly picks up speed. Passes the steam locomotive. Floating gun turrets. Moscow is left behind. Fog. The stars are fading. It's getting light.

In the morning, not finding either Timur or a motorcycle, 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 man took out a package and asked:

Comrade Garaev?

Georgy Alekseevich?

Accept the package and sign.

The Red Army man left. George looked at the package and whistled knowingly. Yes! Here it is, the very thing that he had been waiting for a long time. He opened the package, read and crumpled the letter he had begun. Now it was necessary not to send Timur away, but to summon his mother by telegram here, to the dacha.

Timur entered the room - and the angry Georgy slammed his fist on the table. But after Timur came Olga and Zhenya.

Quiet! Olga said. - There is no need to shout or knock. Timur is not to blame. You are to blame, and so am I.

Yes, - Zhenya picked up, - you don’t shout at him. Olya, don't touch the table. That revolver over there shoots very loudly.

Georgy looked at Zhenya, then at the revolver, at the chipped handle of the clay ashtray. He begins to understand something, he guesses and 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 to clean the car.

The next day, when Olga was sitting on the terrace, the commander came through the gate. He walked firmly, confidently, as if he were going to his own home, and Olga, surprised, rose to meet him. In front of her, in the uniform of a captain of tank troops, stood George.

What is this? Olga asked quietly. - This is again ... a new role of the opera?

No, George answered. - I went to say goodbye for a minute. This is not a new role, but simply a new form.

Is this, - pointing to the buttonholes and slightly blushing, Olga asked, - is it the same thing? ... "We hit through iron and concrete right in the heart"?

Yes, that's it. Sing to me and play, Olya, something for a long journey.

He sat down. Olga took the accordion:

Pilot pilots! Machine gun bombs!

Here they are on a long journey.

When will you return?

I don't know if it will be soon, Just come back... someday.

Gay! Yes, wherever you are, On earth, in heaven, Over foreign lands or -

Two wings, Red-starred wings, Lovely and formidable, I'm still waiting for you, As I was waiting for you.

Here, she said. - But this is all about pilots, and I don’t know such a good song about tankers.

Nothing, George asked. - And you find me a good word without a song.

Olga fell into thought, and, looking for the right good word, she quieted down, carefully looking at his gray and no longer laughing eyes.

Zhenya, Timur and Tanya were in the garden.

Listen, - Zhenya suggested. George is leaving now. Let's gather the whole team to see him off. Let's bang in the form of the number one call sign general. That will be a commotion!

No need, - Timur refused.

No need! We didn't see anyone else like that.

Well, it’s not necessary, it’s not necessary, - Zhenya agreed. - You sit here, I'll go get some water.

She left, and Tanya laughed.

What are you? Timur didn't understand.

Tanya laughed even louder.

Well, well done, well, Zhenya is cunning with us! "I'm going to get some water!"

Attention! Zhenya's sonorous, triumphant voice rang out from the attic. - I'm giving a common call sign in the form number one.

Crazy! Timur jumped up. - Yes, now a hundred people will rush here! What are you doing?

But the heavy wheel was already spinning, the heavy wheel creaked, the wires shuddered, twitched: "Three - stop", "three - stop", stop! And under the roofs of the sheds, in the closets, in the chicken coops, alarm bells, rattles, bottles, tins rattled. A hundred, not a hundred, but not less than fifty guys quickly rushed to the call of a familiar signal.

Olya, - Zhenya burst into the terrace, - we will go to see off too! There are a lot of us. Look out the window.

Ege, - 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 is forbidden! Zhenya sighed, repeating Timur's words. - Strongly, firmly, all the chiefs and commanders are ordered to drive our brother out of there in the neck. It's a pity! I would have been somewhere there ... into battle, into the attack. Machine guns to the line of fire! .. First!

Per-r-vaya ... you are a braggart and chieftain in the world! - Olga mimicked her, and, throwing the accordion strap over her shoulder, she said: - Well, if you see off, then see off with music.

They went out into the street. Olga played the accordion. Then flasks, tins, bottles, sticks were struck - this was a home-made orchestra that burst forward, and a song burst out.

They walked along the green streets, acquiring more and more new mourners. At first, strangers did not understand: why the noise, thunder, screeching? What is the song about and why? But, having figured it out, they smiled, and some to themselves, and some out loud wished Georgy a happy journey. When they approached the platform, a military echelon passed by the station without stopping.

The first carriages were filled with Red Army soldiers. They waved their hands, shouted. Then came open platforms with wagons, over which a whole forest of green shafts stuck out. Then - wagons with horses. Horses shook their muzzles, chewed hay. And they also shouted "hurrah". Finally, a platform flashed by, on which lay something large, angular, carefully wrapped in a gray tarpaulin. Right there, swaying as the train moved, stood a sentry. The echelon disappeared, the train approached. And Timur said goodbye to his uncle.

Olga approached George.

Well, goodbye! - she said. - And maybe for a long time?

He shook his head and shook her hand.

I don't know... How fate!

The whistle, the noise, the thunder of a deafening orchestra. The train left. Olga was thoughtful. In Zhenya's eyes there is a great and incomprehensible happiness to her.

Timur is excited, but he is getting stronger.

And I? Zhenya screamed. - And they? She pointed to her comrades. - And this? And she pointed at the red star.

Stay calm! - Shaking off her thoughts, Olga said to Timur. - You always thought about people, and they will repay you the same.

Timur raised his head. Oh, and here, and here he could not answer otherwise, this simple and sweet boy!

He glanced at his comrades, smiled and said.

I'm standing... I'm watching. Everyone is good! Everyone is calm. So, I am also calm.

Arkady Petrovich Gaidar - Timur and his team, read text

See also Gaidar Arkady Petrovich - Prose (stories, poems, novels ...):

corner house
- At the crossroads! - panting, shouted the commander of the detachment. - The entire line from...

Fourth dugout
Kolka was seven years old, Nyurka was eight. And Vaska is six at all. Kolka and...

Timur (Timur-Leng - Iron Lame), the famous conqueror of the eastern lands, whose name sounded on the lips of Europeans as Tamerlane (1336 - 1405), was born in Kesh (modern Shakhrisabz, "Green City"), fifty miles south of Samarkand in Transoxiana (a region of modern Uzbekistan between the Amu Darya and the Syr Darya). According to some assumptions, Timur's father Taragay was the leader of the Mongol-Turkic tribe of the Barlas (a large family in the tribe of the Mongols-Chagatays) and a descendant of a certain Karachar Noyon (a large feudal landowner in Mongolia in the Middle Ages), a powerful assistant to Chagatai, the son of Genghis Khan and a distant relative of the latter . Reliable "Memoirs" of Timur say that he led many expeditions during the unrest that followed the death of Emir Kazgan, the ruler of Mesopotamia. In 1357, after the invasion of Tughlak Timur, Khan of Kashgar (1361), and the appointment of his son Ilyas-Khodja as governor of Mesopotamia, Timur became his assistant and ruler of Kesh. But very soon he fled and joined Emir Hussein, the grandson of Kazgan, becoming his son-in-law. After many raids and adventures, they defeated the forces of Ilyas-Khoja (1364) and set off to conquer Mesopotamia. Around 1370, Timur rebelled against his ally Hussein, captured him in Balkh and announced that he was the heir of Chagatai and was going to revive the Mongol empire.
Tamerlane devoted the next ten years to the fight against the khans of Dzhent (East Turkestan) and Khorezm, and in 1380 captured Kashgar. Then he intervened in the conflict between the khans of the Golden Horde in Russia and helped Tokhtamysh to take the throne. With the help of Timur, he defeated the ruling Khan Mamai, took his place and, in order to take revenge on the Moscow prince for the defeat inflicted by him on Mamai in 1380, captured Moscow in 1382.
Timur's conquest of Persia in 1381 began with the capture of Herat. The unstable political and economic situation at that time in Persia favored the conqueror. The revival of the country, which began during the reign of the Ilkhans, again slowed down with the death of the last representative of the family, Abu Said (1335). In the absence of an heir, the throne was occupied in turn by rival dynasties. The situation was aggravated by the clash between the dynasties of the Mongol Jalayirs ruling in Baghdad and Tabriz; the Perso-Arab family of the Muzafarids ruling in Fars and Isfahan; Harid-Kurtov in Herat; local religious and tribal alliances, such as the Serbedars (who rebelled against the Mongol oppression) in Khorasan and the Afghans in Kerman, and petty princes in the border regions. All these warring principalities could not jointly and effectively resist Timur. Khorasan and all of Eastern Persia fell under his onslaught in 1382-1385; Fars, Iraq, Azerbaijan and Armenia were conquered in 1386-1387 and 1393-1394; Mesopotamia and Georgia came under his rule in 1394. Between conquests, Timur fought Tokhtamysh, now Khan of the Golden Horde, whose troops invaded Azerbaijan in 1385 and Mesopotamia in 1388, defeating Timur's forces. In 1391, Timur, pursuing Tokhtamysh, reached the southern steppes of Russia, defeated the enemy and overthrew him from the throne. In 1395, the Khan of the Horde again invaded the Caucasus, but was finally defeated on the Kura River. To top it off, Timur ravaged Astrakhan and Saray, but did not reach Moscow. The uprisings that broke out throughout Persia during this campaign demanded his immediate return. Timur crushed them with extraordinary cruelty. Entire cities were destroyed, The inhabitants were exterminated, And their heads were walled up in the walls of the towers.
In 1399, when Timur was already in his sixties, he invaded India, outraged that the Sultans of Delhi were showing too much tolerance towards their subjects. On September 24, Tamerlane's troops crossed the Indus and, leaving a bloody trail behind them, entered Delhi.

The army of Mahmud Tughlaq was defeated at Panipat (December 17), ruins remained from Delhi, from which the city was reborn for more than a century. By April 1399, Timur returned to the capital, burdened with huge booty. One of his contemporaries, Ruy González de Clavijo, wrote that ninety captured elephants carried stones from the quarries for the construction of a mosque in Samarkand.
Having laid the stone foundation of the mosque, at the end of the same year, Timur undertook his last great expedition, the purpose of which was to punish the Egyptian Mameluk Sultan for supporting Ahmad Jalair and the Turkish Sultan Bayazet II, who captured Eastern Anatolia. After restoring his power in Azerbaijan, Tamerlane moved to Syria. Aleppo was taken by storm and plundered, the Mameluke army was defeated, and Damascus was captured (1400). A crushing blow to the well-being of Egypt was that Timur sent all the craftsmen to Samarkand to build mosques and palaces. In 1401, Baghdad was taken by storm, twenty thousand of its inhabitants were killed, and all the monuments were destroyed. Tamerlane spent the winter in Georgia, and in the spring he crossed the border of Anatolia, defeated Bayazet near Ankara (July 20, 1402) and captured Smyrna, which was owned by the Rhodes knights. Bayazet died in captivity, and the story of his imprisonment in an iron cage has forever become a legend. As soon as the resistance of the Egyptian Sultan and John VII (later co-ruler of Manuel II Palaiologos) stopped. Timur returned to Samarkand and immediately began to prepare for an expedition to China. He spoke at the end of December, but in Otrar on the Syrdarya River he fell ill and died on January 19, 1405. Tamerlane's body was embalmed and sent in an ebonite coffin to Samarkand, where he was buried in a magnificent mausoleum called Gur-Emir. Before his death, Timur divided his territories between his two surviving sons and grandsons. After many years of war and enmity over the left will, the descendants of Tamerlane were united by the younger son of the khan, Shahruk.
During the life of Timur, contemporaries kept a careful chronicle of what was happening. It was supposed to serve for writing the official biography of the khan. In 1937, the works of Nizam ad-Din Shami were published in Prague. An edited version of the chronicle was prepared by Sharaf ad-Din Yazdi even earlier and in 1723 was printed in the translation of Petit de la Croix. The opposite point of view was reflected by another contemporary of Timur, Ibn Arabshah, who was extremely hostile towards the khan. His book was published in 1936 in Sanders' translation under the title "Tamerlane, or Timur, the Great Emir". The so-called "Memoirs" of Timur, published in 1830 in Stuart's translation, are considered a forgery, and the circumstances of their discovery and presentation to Shah Jahan in 1637 are still being questioned.
The portraits of Timur by Persian masters have survived to this day. However, they reflected an idealized idea of ​​him. They in no way correspond to the description of the khan by one of his contemporaries as a very tall man with a large head, blush on his cheeks and blond hair from birth.

The full name of the great conqueror of antiquity, which will be discussed in our article, is Timur ibn Taragay Barlas, but in literature he is often referred to as Tamerlane, or Iron Lame. It should be clarified that he was nicknamed Iron not only for his personal qualities, but also because this is how his name Timur is translated from the Turkic language. Lameness was the result of a wound received in one of the battles. There is reason to believe that this mysterious commander of the past was involved in the great blood shed in the 20th century.

Who is Tamerlane and where is he from?

First, a few words about the childhood of the future great khan. It is known that Timur-Tamerlane was born on April 9, 1336 on the territory of the present Uzbek city of Shakhrisabz, which at that time was a small village called Khoja-Ilgar. His father, a local landowner from the Barlas tribe, Muhammad Taragay, professed Islam, and raised his son in this faith.

Following the customs of those times, from early childhood he taught the boy the basics of military art - horseback riding, archery and javelin throwing. As a result, barely reaching maturity, he was already an experienced warrior. It was then that the future conqueror Tamerlane received invaluable knowledge.

The biography of this man, or rather, that part of it that became the property of history, begins with the fact that in his youth he won the favor of Khan Tuglik, the ruler of the Chagatai ulus, one of the Mongol states, on whose territory the future commander was born.

Appreciating the fighting qualities, as well as the outstanding mind of Timur, he brought him closer to the court, making him the tutor of his son. However, the entourage of the prince, fearing his rise, began to build intrigues against him, and as a result, fearing for his life, the newly-minted teacher was forced to flee.

At the head of a squad of mercenaries

The years of Tamerlane's life coincided with the historical period when it was a continuous theater of military operations. Fragmented into many states, it was constantly torn apart by civil strife of local khans, who were constantly trying to seize neighboring lands. The situation was aggravated by countless bands of robbers - jet, who did not recognize any power and lived exclusively by robberies.

In this situation, the failed teacher Timur-Tamerlane found his true calling. By uniting several dozens of ghulams - professional hired warriors - he created a detachment that surpassed all other surrounding gangs in its fighting qualities and cruelty.

First conquests

Together with his thugs, the newly-born commander made daring raids on cities and villages. It is known that in 1362 he stormed several fortresses belonging to the Sarbadars - participants in the popular movement against Mongol rule. Having captured them, he ordered the surviving defenders to be immured into the walls. This was an act of intimidation for all future opponents, and such cruelty became one of the main features of his character. Very soon, the whole East learned about who Tamerlane was.

It was then that in one of the fights he lost two fingers of his right hand and was seriously wounded in the leg. Its consequences were preserved until the end of his life and served as the basis for the nickname - Timur the Lame. However, it did not prevent him from becoming a figure who played a significant role in the history of not only Central, Western and South Asia, but also the Caucasus and Russia in the last quarter of the 14th century.

Military talent and extraordinary audacity helped Tamerlane to conquer the entire territory of Ferghana, subjugating Samarkand, and making the city of Ket the capital of the newly formed state. Further, his army rushed to the territory belonging to present-day Afghanistan, and, having ruined it, stormed the ancient capital of Balkh, the emir of which - Hussein - was immediately hanged. His fate was shared by most of the courtiers.

Cruelty as a weapon of intimidation

The next direction of his cavalry strike was the cities of Isfahan and Fars located south of Balkh, where the last representatives of the Persian Muzaffarid dynasty ruled. Isfahan was the first on his way. Having captured it and given it to his mercenaries for plunder, Timur the Lame ordered to lay the heads of the dead in a pyramid, the height of which exceeded the height of a man. This was a continuation of his constant tactics of intimidating opponents.

It is characteristic that the whole subsequent history of Tamerlane, the conqueror and commander, is marked by manifestations of extreme cruelty. In part, it can be explained by the fact that he himself became a hostage to his own politics. Leading a highly professional army, Lame had to regularly pay his mercenaries, otherwise their scimitars would turn against him. This forced them to seek new victories and conquests by any means available.

The beginning of the struggle with the Golden Horde

In the early 80s, the next stage in the ascent of Tamerlane was the conquest of the Golden Horde, or, in other words, the Dzhuchiev ulus. From time immemorial, it was dominated by the Euro-Asian steppe culture with its religion of polytheism, which had nothing to do with Islam, professed by the majority of its warriors. Therefore, the fighting that began in 1383 became a clash not only of opposing armies, but also of two different cultures.

Ordynsky, the one who in 1382 made a campaign against Moscow, wishing to get ahead of his opponent and strike first, undertook a campaign against Kharezm. Having achieved temporary success, he also captured a significant territory of present-day Azerbaijan, but soon his troops were forced to retreat, having suffered significant losses.

In 1385, taking advantage of the fact that Timur and his hordes were in Persia, he tried again, but this time failed. Having learned about the invasion of the Horde, the formidable commander urgently returned his troops to Central Asia and utterly defeated the enemy, forcing Tokhtamysh himself to flee to Western Siberia.

Continuation of the fight against the Tatars

However, the conquest of the Golden Horde has not yet ended. Its final defeat was preceded by five years filled with incessant military campaigns and bloodshed. It is known that in 1389 the Horde Khan even managed to insist that Russian squads support him in the war with the Muslims.

This was facilitated by the death of the Grand Duke of Moscow Dmitry Donskoy, after which his son and heir Vasily was obliged to go to the Horde for a label to reign. Tokhtamysh confirmed his rights, but subject to the participation of Russian troops in repelling the Muslim attack.

Defeat of the Golden Horde

Prince Vasily agreed, but it was only formal. After the defeat perpetrated by Tokhtamysh in Moscow, none of the Russians wanted to shed blood for him. As a result, in the very first battle on the Kondurcha River (a tributary of the Volga), they abandoned the Tatars and, having crossed to the opposite bank, left.

The completion of the conquest of the Golden Horde was the battle on the Terek River, in which the troops of Tokhtamysh and Timur met on April 15, 1395. Iron Lame managed to inflict a crushing defeat on his enemy and thereby put an end to the Tatar raids on the territories under his control.

The threat to Russian lands and the campaign against India

The next blow was prepared by him in the very heart of Russia. The purpose of the planned campaign was Moscow and Ryazan, who until that time did not know who Tamerlane was, and paid tribute to the Golden Horde. But, fortunately, these plans were not destined to come true. The uprising of the Circassians and Ossetians prevented, which broke out in the rear of Timur's troops and forced the conqueror to turn back. The only victim then was the city of Yelets, which appeared on its way.

Over the next two years, his army made a victorious campaign in India. Having captured Delhi, Timur's soldiers plundered and burned the city, and killed 100 thousand defenders who were captured, fearing a possible rebellion on their part. Having reached the banks of the Ganges and captured several fortified fortresses along the way, the army of many thousands returned to Samarkand with rich booty and a large number of slaves.

New conquests and new blood

Following India, it was the turn of the Ottoman Sultanate to submit to the sword of Tamerlane. In 1402, he defeated the Janissaries of Sultan Bayazid, who had been invincible until then, and captured him himself. As a result, the entire territory of Asia Minor was under his dominion.

The Ionite knights, who for many years held the fortress of the ancient city of Smyrna in their hands, could not resist the troops of Tamerlane. Having repeatedly repulsed the attacks of the Turks before, they surrendered to the mercy of the lame conqueror. When the Venetian and Genoese ships with reinforcements arrived to their aid, the victors threw them from the fortress catapults with the severed heads of the defenders.

The idea that Tamerlane could not implement

The biography of this outstanding commander and evil genius of his era ends with the last ambitious project, which was his campaign against China, which began in 1404. The goal was to capture the Great Silk Road, which made it possible to receive a tax from passing merchants and replenish their already overflowing treasury due to this. But the implementation of the plan was prevented by a sudden death that cut short the life of the commander in February 1405.

The great emir of the Timurid Empire - under this title he entered the history of his people - was buried in the Gur Emir mausoleum in Samarkand. A legend is connected with his burial, passed down from generation to generation. It says that in the event that the sarcophagus of Tamerlane is opened and his ashes are disturbed, then a terrible and bloody war will be the punishment for this.

In June 1941, an expedition of the USSR Academy of Sciences was sent to Samarkand to exhume the remains of the commander and study them. The grave was opened on the night of June 21, and the next day, as you know, the Great Patriotic War began.

Another fact is also interesting. In October 1942, a participant in those events, cameraman Malik Kayumov, meeting with Marshal Zhukov, told him about the fulfilled curse and offered to return the ashes of Tamerlane to their original place. This was done on November 20, 1942, and on the same day a radical change followed during the Battle of Stalingrad.

Skeptics tend to argue that in this case there were only a number of accidents, because the plan of attack on the USSR was developed long before the opening of the tomb by people who, although they knew who Tamerlane was, but, of course, did not take into account the spell that hung over his grave. Without entering into polemics, we will only say that everyone has the right to have their own point of view on this matter.

Conqueror Family

Timur's wives and children are of particular interest to researchers. Like all Eastern rulers, this great conqueror of the past had a huge family. He had 18 official wives alone (not counting concubines), the favorite of whom is considered to be Sarai-mulk xanim. Despite the fact that the lady with such a poetic name was barren, her master entrusted the upbringing of many of his sons and grandchildren. She also went down in history as the patroness of art and science.

It is quite clear that with such a number of wives and concubines, there was also no shortage of children. Nevertheless, only four of his sons took the places befitting such a high birth, and became rulers in the empire created by their father. In their face, the story of Tamerlane found its continuation.

About a group of boys who absolutely disinterestedly did good deeds for the relatives of the Red Army soldiers who went to war.

reference

Author: Arkady Petrovich Gaidar
Full title: "Timur and his team"
Original language: Russian
Genre: story
Year of publication: 1940
Number of pages (A4): 30

Summary of the story "Timur and his team" by Arkady Gaidar

The main characters of Gaidar's story "Timur and his team" are a group of boys and 2 daughters of the Soviet military leader, Zhenya and Olga. They move to a holiday village, where the younger Zhenya discovers that on their site in an abandoned barn there is a meeting place for the boys of the village, whose activities are well organized by the leader Timur Garayev. It turned out that they were not busy with the usual entertainment for boys, hooliganism, but helping the relatives of those who had been drafted into the Red Army.

Zhenya is drawn into the activities of the "organization". Her older sister Olga believes that she got in touch with hooligans and in every way forbids Zhenya to communicate with Timur and his team. Olga, meanwhile, begins to make friends with the "engineer" Georgy, who in fact turned out to be a tanker and Timur's uncle.

Timurovites help the relatives of those who have gone into the army, protecting their gardens from thieves, carrying water, looking for missing pets. They decide to give a decisive battle to a gang of hooligans who rob the gardens of the inhabitants. Attempts to resolve the issue amicably were unsuccessful and the Timurovites defeated the hooligans in hand-to-hand combat. The hooligans were captured and locked in a booth in the central square of the village.

The story "Timur and his team" ends with Timur taking Zhenya towards his father on his uncle's motorcycle. Olga understands that Timur is not a bully at all, and Zhenya is also engaged in useful deeds.

Meaning

The guys from A. Gaidar's book "Timur and his team" do good deeds without counting on gratitude and often secretly. Their goal is to replace relatives who have gone into the army, to make life easier for those who remain in the village. Selfless service to society without counting on praise or reward is the main meaning of Arkady Gaidar's story.

Of course, children cannot cope with all "adult" problems. In addition, it is not clear what the story would be like if it described the events not of the late thirties of the last century, but of our time, when the robbery of gardens is not something unusual, and instead of looking for pets, people are preoccupied with finding work, on the streets you can meet an alcoholic, a homeless person, a drug addict, a criminal, a gang of aggressive youth, labor migrants, officials in cars with flashing lights, etc.

But in any case, selfless service to other people is a blessing and, in fact, the only thing that distinguishes society from a bunch of individuals/egoists. Maybe that's why the actions of Timur and his team would be very relevant now.

Output

It is unlikely that there are many people who have not heard anything about the story "Timur and his team" by Gaidar, for sure, many read it at school. Nevertheless. re-read this small work of Gaidar is worth it. This mini-summary will help you. I highly recommend!

Reviews of books by Arkady Gaidar:

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I also recommend reading book reviews (and the books themselves, of course):

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

The eldest, eighteen-year-old Olga, goes there with things, leaving thirteen-year-old Zhenya to clean up the apartment. Olga studies as an engineer, studies music, sings, she is a strict, serious girl. At the dacha, Olga meets a young engineer, Georgy Garaev. She waits until late for Zhenya, but her sister is still not there.

And Zhenya at this time, having arrived in the dacha village, in search of mail to send a telegram to his father, accidentally enters someone's empty dacha, and the dog does not let her go back. Zhenya falls asleep. Waking up the next morning, he sees that there is no dog, and next to him is an encouraging note from an unknown Timur. Having found a sham revolver, Zhenya plays with it. A blank shot that broke a mirror frightens her, she runs away, leaving the key to her Moscow apartment and the telegram in the house. Zhenya comes to her sister and already foresees her wrath, 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, standing in the depths of the garden. There she finds a steering wheel and begins to turn it. And from the steering wheel there are rope wires. Zhenya, without knowing it herself, 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 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.

In the early 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 Nyurka, they find her missing goat. And Zhenya plays with the little daughter of Lieutenant Pavlov, who was recently killed at the border.

The Timurites make up an ultimatum to Mishka Kvakin. They order him to come along with an assistant, the Figure, and bring a list of the members of the gang. Geika and Kolya Kolokolchikov carry the ultimatum. And when they come for an answer, the Kvakinans lock them up in the old chapel.

Georgy Garaev rides Olga on a motorcycle. He, like Olga, is engaged in singing: he plays an old partisan in the opera. His "severe and terrible" make-up will frighten anyone, and the joker Georgy often uses this (he owned the fake revolver).

The Timurites manage to free Geika and Kolya and lock up the Figure instead. They ambush the Kvakinskaya gang, close everyone in a booth on the market square and hang a poster on the booth that the "captives" are apple thieves.

There is a noisy party in the park. George was asked to sing. Olga agreed to accompany him on the accordion. After the performance, Olga runs into Timur and Zhenya walking in the park. The angry older sister accuses Timur of setting Zhenya against her, she is also angry with George: why didn’t he admit earlier that Timur is 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 comes only for three hours to see his daughters.

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 arrive from her father and from Olga. Zhenya notices the telegrams only late at night. 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 trouble. Timur instructs Kolya Kolokolchikov to guard the sleeping girl - for this he has to tell Kolya's grandfather everything. He approves of the actions of the boys. Timur himself takes Zhenya on a motorcycle to the city (there is no one to ask permission from, 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 by quickly - Colonel Alexandrov has to go to the front.

George does not find either a nephew or a motorcycle in the country and decides to send Timur home to his mother, but then Timur arrives, and with him Zhenya and Olga. They explain everything.

George receives a summons. In the form of a captain of tank troops, he comes to Olga to say goodbye. Zhenya transmits a “common call sign”, all the boys from the Timurov team come running. Everyone goes to see George off together. Olga plays the accordion. George leaves. Olga says to the saddened Timur: “You always thought about people, and they will repay you the same.”

retold