White steamer summary for the reader's diary. White steamboat

Chingiz AITMATOVWHITE STEAMER(after the tale)

He had two fairy tales. One of his own, about which no one knew. Another one that my grandfather told. Then there was not one left. This is what we are talking about.

That year he was seven years old, he was in the eighth.

First, a portfolio was bought. Black leatherette briefcase with shiny metal snap closure that slips under the bracket. With a patch pocket for small items. In a word, an extraordinary ordinary school bag. This is probably how it all started.

Grandfather bought it at a visiting shop. The caravan, driving around with the goods of the cattle breeders in the mountains, sometimes dropped in to them at the forest cordon, in the San-Tash pad '.

From here, from the cordon, along the gorges and slopes, a reserved mountain forest ascended to the upper reaches. There are only three families in the cordon. But still, from time to time, the shop came to visit the foresters.

The only boy in all three yards, he was always the first to notice the shop.

- Rides! He shouted, running to the doors and windows. - The shop car is going!

The wheel road made its way here from the coast of Issyk-Kul, all the time along the gorge, along the river bank, all the time over stones and bumps. It was not very easy to drive on such a road. When she reached Karaulnaya Gora, she climbed from the bottom of the gorge to the slope and from there descended for a long time along the steep and bare slope to the yards of the foresters. The Guard Mountain is very close - in the summer, almost every day the boy ran there to look at the lake with binoculars. And there, on the road, everything is always visible at a glance - both on foot, and on horseback, and, of course, a car.

That time - and it happened in a hot summer - the boy was swimming in his dam and from here he saw the car get dusty on the slope. The dam was on the edge of a river bank, on pebbles. It was built by my grandfather from stones. If it were not for this dam, who knows, maybe the boy would have been dead for a long time. And, as the grandmother said, the river would have washed his bones long ago and would have carried them straight to Issyk-Kul, and fish and all kinds of water creatures would look at them there. And no one would look for him and kill him - because there is nothing to get into the water and because it doesn't hurt who needs him. So far, this has not happened. And if it happened, who knows, the grandmother might really not have rushed to save. He would also be her family, otherwise, she says, a stranger. And a stranger is always a stranger, no matter how much you feed him, no matter how much you follow him. A stranger ... What if he doesn't want to be a stranger? And why exactly should he be considered a stranger? Maybe not he, but the grandmother herself is a stranger?

But more about that later, and about grandfather's dam also later ...

So, then, he saw a caravan, it was going down the mountain, and behind it along the road the dust was swirling behind it. And so he was delighted, he knew for sure that a portfolio would be bought for him. He immediately jumped out of the water, quickly pulled on his trousers over his skinny thighs and, himself still wet, turning blue — the water in the river is cold — ran along the path to the courtyard to be the first to announce the arrival of the caravan.

The boy ran quickly, jumping over the bushes and running around the boulders, if he was not able to jump them, and did not linger anywhere for a second - neither near tall grasses, nor near stones, although he knew that they were not at all simple. They could be offended and even substitute a leg. "The shop car has arrived. I will come later," he threw on the move to "Lying Camel" - as he called the red hunchbacked granite, which sank into the ground up to his chest. Usually the boy did not pass by without patting his "Camel" on the hump. He clapped him in a businesslike way, like the grandfather of his bobtail gelding - so, casually, in passing; You, they say, wait, and I will be absent here on business. He had a boulder "Saddle" - half white, half black, piebald stone with a saddle, where you could sit astride a horse. There was also a stone "Wolf" - very similar to a wolf, brown, with gray hair, with a powerful nape and a heavy forehead. He crawled up to him and took aim. But the most beloved stone is "Tank", an indestructible block near the river on a washed-out bank. So wait, "Tank" will rush from the bank and go, and the river will gurgle, boil with white breakers. Tanks go to the cinema this way: from the shore into the water - and went ... The boy rarely saw films and therefore remembered what he saw. My grandfather sometimes took his grandson to the cinema at the state farm pedigree farm in the neighboring tract behind the mountain. That is why "Tank" appeared on the bank, always ready to rush across the river. There were also others - "harmful" or "good" stones, and even "cunning" and "stupid".

Among the plants there are also "loved ones", "brave", "fearful", "evil" and all sorts of others. A prickly thug, for example, is the main enemy. The boy hacked him dozens of times a day. But the end of this war was not in sight - the thug grew and multiplied. But field bindweed, although they are also weeds, are the smartest and funniest flowers. They are best greeted by the sun in the morning. Other herbs do not understand anything - that morning, that evening, they do not care. And the bindweed, just warm the rays, open their eyes, laugh. First one eye, then the second, and then one by one all the swirls of flowers bloom on the bindweed. White, light blue, lilac, different ... And if you sit next to them quite quietly, it seems that they, waking up, are inaudibly whispering about something. Ants - and they know it. In the morning they run through the bindweed, squint in the sun and listen to what the flowers are talking about among themselves. Maybe dreams are told?

During the day, usually at noon, the boy liked to climb into thickets of stalked shiraljins. Shiraljins are tall, there are no flowers on them, but fragrant, they grow in islands, gather in a heap, not allowing other herbs to come close. The Shiraljins are loyal friends. Especially if there is some kind of insult and you want to cry so that no one sees, it is best to hide in shiraljins. They smell like a pine forest at the edge. Hot and quiet in the shiraljins. And most importantly, they do not obscure the sky. You have to lie on your back and look at the sky. At first, through tears, almost nothing is discerned. And then the clouds will come and they will make whatever you think of above. The clouds know that you are not very good, that you want to leave somewhere, go fly away so that no one finds you and so that everyone sighs and gasps later - the boy disappears, they say, where will we find him now? .. And so that this does not it happened that you would not disappear anywhere, that you would lie still and admire the clouds, the clouds will turn into whatever you want. The same clouds make all sorts of things. You just need to be able to find out what the clouds represent.

And in the shiraljins it is quiet, and they do not obscure the sky. These are they, shiraljins, smelling of hot pines ...

And he also knew different differences about herbs. He treated the silvery feather grass that grew in the floodplain meadow with condescension. They are weirdos - feather grass! Windy heads. Eid soft, silky panicles cannot live without wind. They just wait - wherever it blows, there they lean. And everyone bows as one, the whole meadow, as if on command. And if it starts raining or a thunderstorm starts, they don’t know the feather grass where to stick to. They rush, fall, cuddle to the ground. If there were legs, they would probably run away wherever their eyes look ... But they are pretending to be. The thunderstorm will subside, and again frivolous feathers in the wind - wherever the wind goes, there they too ...

Alone, without friends, the boy lived in the circle of those simple things that surrounded him, and unless the shop could make him forget about everything and run headlong towards her. What can I say, the shop is not stones or herbs. What is not there, in the shop!

When the boy reached the house, the caravan was already approaching the yard, behind the houses. The houses on the cordon faced the river, the courtyard turned into a gentle slope straight to the bank, and on the other side of the river, immediately from the washed-out ravine, the forest rose steeply up the mountains, so that there was only one approach to the cordon - behind the houses. If the boy had not reached in time, no one would have known that the caravan was already here.

There were no men at that hour, everyone had left in the morning. The women were doing household chores. But then he shouted shrilly, running to the open doors:

- Has arrived! The shop car has arrived! The women were alarmed. We rushed to look for the hidden money. And they jumped out, overtaking one another. Grandma and she praised him:

- Here we have what big-eyed!

The boy felt flattered, as if he had brought the shop himself. He was happy to bring them the news, because he rushed with them into the backyard, because he was jostling with them at the open door of the van. But here the women immediately forgot about him. They had no time for him. The goods are different - the eyes ran up. There were only three women: grandmother, aunt Bekey - the sister of his mother, the wife of the most important man in the cordon, the patrolman Orozkul - and the wife of an auxiliary worker Seidakhmat - young Guljamal with her girl in her arms. Only three women. But they fussed so much, sorted out and stirred up the goods so that the shop assistant had to demand that they observe the queue and not chatter all at once.

However, his words had little effect on women. First, they grabbed everything, then they began to choose, then return what they had taken away. They put off, tried on, argued, doubted, asked dozens of times about the same thing. One thing they didn’t like, the other was expensive, the third had the wrong color ... The boy stood aside. He got bored. The expectation of something extraordinary disappeared, the joy that he experienced when he saw a car shop on the mountain disappeared. The shop suddenly turned into an ordinary car, filled with a bunch of different rubbish.

The boy and his grandfather lived in a forest cordon. There were three women in the cordon: grandmother, aunt Bekey - grandfather's daughter and wife of the main man in the cordon, the patrolman Orozkul, and also the wife of an auxiliary worker Seidakhmat. Aunt Bekey is the most unhappy in the world, because she has no children, for this Orozkul beats her intoxicated. Grandfather Momun was nicknamed the agile Momun. He earned such a nickname for his unchanging friendliness, his willingness to always serve. He knew how to work. And his son-in-law, Orozkul, although he was listed as the chief, mostly traveled around the guests. Momun followed the cattle, kept an apiary. All my life from morning to evening at work, and I have not learned to force myself to respect.

The boy remembered neither his father nor his mother. I have never seen them. But he knew: his father was a sailor in Issyk-Kul, and after a divorce, his mother left for a distant city.

The boy loved to climb the neighboring mountain and look at Issyk-Kul through his grandfathers' binoculars. Toward evening, appeared on the lake white steamer... With pipes in a row, long, powerful, beautiful. The boy dreamed of becoming a fish, so that only his head would remain his own, on a thin neck, large, with protruding ears. He will sail and say to his father, the sailor: "Hello, dad, I am your son." He will tell, of course, how he lives with Momun. The best grandfather, but not at all cunning, and therefore everyone laughs at him. And Orozkul just shouts!

In the evenings, the grandfather told his grandson a fairy tale.

In ancient times, a Kyrgyz tribe lived on the banks of the Enesai River. Enemies attacked the tribe and killed everyone. Only the boy and the girl remained. But then the children fell into the hands of enemies. The Khan gave them to Pockmarked Lame Old Woman and ordered to put an end to the Kirghiz. But when the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman had already brought them to the banks of the Enesai, the maral's mother came out of the forest and began to ask for the children. “People killed my deer,” she said. - And my udder is overflowing, asks for children! The Pockmarked Lame Old Woman warned: “These are children of men. They will grow up and kill your deer. After all, people are not like animals, they do not feel sorry for each other either. " But the deer mother begged the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman, and brought her children, now her own, to Issyk-Kul.

The children grew up and got married. The woman's childbirth began, she suffered. The man got scared, began to call the mother deer. And then an iridescent ringing was heard from afar. The horned mother deer brought a baby cradle on her horns - beshik. And on the arch of beshik, a silver bell rang. And immediately a woman was born. They named their firstborn in honor of the deer mother - Bugubai. From him came the clan Bugu.

Then one rich man died, and his children decided to install deer horns on the tomb. Since then, there has been no mercy for marals in the Issyk-Kul forests. And there were no deer. The mountains were empty. And when the Horned Mother Deer left, she said that she would never return.

Autumn has come again in the mountains. Along with the summer, Orozkul was leaving the time of visiting the shepherds and herdsmen - the time had come to pay for the offerings. Together with Momun, they dragged two pine logs through the mountains, and that is why Orozkul was angry with the whole world. He would have to settle down in the city, they know how to respect a person. Cultured people ... And for the fact that they received a gift, then there is no need to carry the logs. But the state farm is visited by the police, the inspection - well, they ask where the forest is from and where. At this thought, anger towards everything and everyone boiled up in Orozkul. I wanted to beat my wife, but the house was far away. Then this grandfather saw the marals and almost came to tears, as if he had met his brothers.

And when it was very close to the cordon, they finally quarreled with the old man: he kept asking for his grandson, taking him away from school. It got to the point that he threw the stuck logs in the river and rode off after the boy. It didn't even help that Orozkul hit him on the head a couple of times - he broke free, spat blood and left.

When the grandfather and the boy returned, they found out that Orozkul had beaten his wife and kicked out of the house, and he said he was firing his grandfather. Bekey howled, cursed her father, and the grandmother was itching that she had to submit to Orozkul, ask him for forgiveness, otherwise where to go in old age? Grandfather is in his hands ...

The boy wanted to tell his grandfather what he saw marals in the forest - they came back all the same! - but the grandfather was not up to it. And then the boy again went into his imaginary world and began to beg his mother-deer to bring Orozkul and Bekey a cradle on the horns.

Meanwhile, people came to the cordon behind the forest. And while they were pulling out the log and doing other things, grandfather Momun minced after Orozkul like a loyal dog. The visitors also saw marals - apparently, the animals were not frightened, from the reserve.

In the evening, the boy saw a cauldron boiling on a fire in the courtyard, from which a meaty spirit emanated. The grandfather was standing by the fire and was drunk - the boy had never seen him like that. A drunken Orozkul and one of the newcomers, squatting by the barn, were sharing a huge pile of fresh meat. And under the wall of the shed, the boy saw the head of a horned deer. He wanted to run, but his legs did not obey - he stood and looked at the disfigured head of the one who had yesterday been the Horned Mother Deer.

Soon they all sat down at the table. The boy was sick all the time. He heard drunken people chomping, gnawing, sniffing, devouring the meat of the mother deer. And then Saydakhmat told how he forced his grandfather to shoot the deer: he intimidated that otherwise Orozkul would drive him out.

And the boy decided that he would become a fish and never return to the mountains. He went down to the river. And stepped right into the water ...

The boy and his grandfather lived in a forest cordon. There were three women in the cordon: grandmother, aunt Bekey - grandfather's daughter and wife of the main man in the cordon, the patrolman Orozkul, and also the wife of an auxiliary worker Seidakhmat. Aunt Bekey is the most unhappy in the world, because she has no children, for this Orozkul beats her intoxicated. Grandfather Momun was nicknamed the agile Momun. He earned such a nickname for his unchanging friendliness, his willingness to always serve. He knew how to work. And his son-in-law, Orozkul, although he was listed as the chief, mostly traveled around the guests. Momun followed the cattle, kept an apiary. All my life from morning to evening at work, and I have not learned to force myself to respect.

The boy remembered neither his father nor his mother. I have never seen them. But he knew: his father was a sailor in Issyk-Kul, and after a divorce, his mother left for a distant city.

The boy loved to climb the neighboring mountain and look at Issyk-Kul through his grandfathers' binoculars. Towards evening, a white steamer appeared on the lake. With pipes in a row, long, powerful, beautiful. The boy dreamed of becoming a fish, so that only his head would remain of his own, on a thin neck, large, with protruding ears. He will sail and say to his father, the sailor: "Hello, dad, I am your son." He will tell, of course, how he lives with Momun. The best grandfather, but not at all cunning, and therefore everyone laughs at him. And Orozkul just shouts!

In the evenings, the grandfather told his grandson a fairy tale.

In ancient times, a Kyrgyz tribe lived on the banks of the Enesai River. Enemies attacked the tribe and killed everyone. Only the boy and the girl remained. But then the children fell into the hands of enemies. The Khan gave them to Pockmarked Lame Old Woman and ordered to put an end to the Kirghiz. But when the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman had already brought them to the banks of the Enesai, the maral's mother came out of the forest and began to ask for the children. “People killed my deer,” she said. - And my udder is overflowing, asks for children! The Pockmarked Lame Old Woman warned: “These are children of men. They will grow up and kill your deer. After all, people are not like animals, they do not feel sorry for each other either. " But the deer mother begged the Pockmarked Lame Old Woman, and brought her children, now her own, to Issyk-Kul.

The children grew up and got married. The woman's childbirth began, she suffered. The man got scared, began to call the mother deer. And then an iridescent ringing was heard from afar. The horned mother deer brought a baby cradle on her horns - beshik. And on the arch of beshik, a silver bell rang. And immediately a woman was born. They named their firstborn in honor of the deer mother - Bugubai. From him came the clan Bugu.

Then one rich man died, and his children decided to install deer horns on the tomb. Since then, there has been no mercy for marals in the Issyk-Kul forests. And there were no deer. The mountains were empty. And when the Horned Mother Deer left, she said that she would never return.

Autumn has come again in the mountains. Along with the summer, Orozkul was leaving the time of visiting the shepherds and herdsmen - the time had come to pay for the offerings. Together with Momun, they dragged two pine logs through the mountains, and that is why Orozkul was angry with the whole world. He would have to settle down in the city, they know how to respect a person. Cultured people ... And for the fact that they received a gift, then there is no need to carry the logs. But the state farm is visited by the police, the inspection - well, they ask where the forest is from and where. At this thought, anger towards everything and everyone boiled up in Orozkul. I wanted to beat my wife, but the house was far away. Then this grandfather saw the marals and almost came to tears, as if he had met his brothers.

And when it was very close to the cordon, they finally quarreled with the old man: he kept asking for his grandson, taking him away from school. It got to the point that he threw the stuck logs in the river and rode off after the boy. It didn't even help that Orozkul hit him on the head a couple of times - he broke free, spat blood and left.

When the grandfather and the boy returned, they found out that Orozkul had beaten his wife and kicked out of the house, and he said he was firing his grandfather. Bekey howled, cursed her father, and the grandmother was itching that she had to submit to Orozkul, ask him for forgiveness, otherwise where to go in old age? Grandfather is in his hands ...

The boy wanted to tell his grandfather what he saw marals in the forest - they came back all the same! - but the grandfather was not up to it. And then the boy again went into his imaginary world and began to beg his mother-deer to bring Orozkul and Bekey a cradle on the horns.

Meanwhile, people came to the cordon behind the forest. And while they were pulling out the log and doing other things, grandfather Momun minced after Orozkul like a loyal dog. The visitors also saw marals - apparently, the animals were not frightened, from the reserve.

In the evening, the boy saw a cauldron boiling on a fire in the courtyard, from which a meaty spirit emanated. The grandfather was standing by the fire and was drunk - the boy had never seen him like that. A drunken Orozkul and one of the newcomers, squatting by the barn, were sharing a huge pile of fresh meat. And under the wall of the shed, the boy saw the head of a horned deer. He wanted to run, but his legs did not obey - he stood and looked at the disfigured head of the one who had yesterday been the Horned Mother Deer.

Soon they all sat down at the table. The boy was sick all the time. He heard drunken people chomping, gnawing, sniffing, devouring the meat of the mother deer. And then Saydakhmat told how he forced his grandfather to shoot the deer: he intimidated that otherwise Orozkul would drive him out.

And the boy decided that he would become a fish and never return to the mountains. He went down to the river. And stepped right into the water ...

We hope you enjoyed the summary of the White Steamer story. We will be glad if you manage to read this story in its entirety.

The author immerses the reader in the vicinity of Kyrgyzstan and immediately introduces the main character - a boy with no name and no past, with a dubious future, lives on the jaeger cordon, near the shores of a forest lake. With him live his own aunt with her husband, the gamekeeper Orozkul. They are not at all involved in raising the boy, thereby leaving him to himself. The only person who at least somehow participates in the fate of the guy is grandfather Momun, the assistant huntsman.

The story shows us, through comparisons of fictional life in fairy tales and its real side, that good does not always prevail over evil. The eternal struggle between white and black, justice over unfairness, as a result, may end with a not fabulous cliché: "they lived happily ever after."

Read a summary of the stories of Aitmatov White steamer

Nobody and nothing pleases the boy. He has no friends and those with whom he can spend time in conversation. His constant companions and interlocutors are the stones surrounding the place where he lives, binoculars from the time of the war, in which he examined the horizons of the lake and a briefcase donated by grandfather Momun. To get away from the real misfortunes of life, the boy creates two fictional stories around him, in which he begins to faithfully believe in and play with them.

The first story is that his father, whom the boy never knew, is a sailor and he serves on a large white steamer, and from time to time the ship appears and sways gracefully on the surface of the lake. The boy plays up all this in his imagination, often peers through binoculars in search of a steamer. Imagines how he becomes a small fish, dives into the lake and swims to meet the ship. And climbing aboard he hugs and greets his father.

The second story in which the boy believes is the tale of the mother deer. Belief says that in the past, many years ago, a tribe lived on the banks of the river, which was attacked by enemies and killed all but two children, a boy and a girl. The leader of the attacking tribe gave the children to the old woman and ordered to get rid of them. She led them to the river bank, and when she was ready to obey the order of the leader, the mother deer came up to them. She began to ask not to kill the children and give them away. To which the old woman said: “These are young people, you cannot cope with them, and when they grow up, they will want to kill your deer. After all, people are very cruel creatures and they kill not only animals, but also each other. " The deer mother still insisted that the children stay with her.

At the time of the boy, red deer become the target of poachers. The huntsman contributes to the development of poaching on a huge scale. First, for a generous reward, Orozkul allows the cutting of relict pines. Further developments take on a cruel color. One cool evening, the insidious Orozkul, with no less insidious plans, decides to gain the support of the wise grandfather Momun. Not having achieved a result in the negotiations, he decides to give his grandfather vodka to drink and, for greater effect, threatens him with dismissal. Thus, he achieves what he wants and makes Momun go to kill the female deer.

It was a dark evening, white fire smoke and the sweet smell of grilled meat. A company of three people by the fire: Orozkul, Momun and a visiting guest. Deer meat was fried over the fire. The boy did not want to believe in the cruelty of people and in the fact that it was in fact a killed deer, until he saw the remains of a poor animal behind the barn. The boy lost hope in a second, disappointment sagged his legs and weakness pressed his chest. Tears flowed in a stream, he did not want to accept the cruelty of reality, the cruelty of those people who surround him.

Deciding to escape this sight, he runs to the lake. A place that always fueled hope in him when he looked at the horizon through binoculars and saw the outlines of a white steamer.

The tragic end of the story makes the reader really feel the pain of a boy who has lived all his life by faith in good and light. And at one point this faith is taken away from him. The boy again imagines, closing his eyes, that he is a small fish that jumps into the water and swims away to the far ends of the lake in search of his father, a sailor.

The fire is burning, the meat is roasting, the three men are still sitting in the same positions. They did not hear the splash of water and they did not notice the quiet disappearance of the boy.

Picture or drawing White steamer

Other retellings for the reader's diary

• Summary of Oseeva Sons

  Three neighbors stood at the well and took water. An old man was sitting next to him, listening to the conversation that began between them. The women discussed their sons. The first one praised her son,

Chingiz AITMATOV

WHITE STEAMER

He had two fairy tales. One of his own, about which no one knew. Another one that my grandfather told. Then there was not one left. This is what we are talking about.
That year he was seven years old, he was in the eighth.
First, a portfolio was bought. Black leatherette briefcase with shiny metal clasp that slips under the brace. With a patch pocket for small items. In a word, an extraordinary ordinary school bag. This is probably how it all started.
Grandfather bought it at a visiting shop. The caravan, driving around with the goods of the pastoralists in the mountains, sometimes dropped in to see them at the forest cordon, in the San-Tash pad.
From here, from the cordon, along the gorges and slopes, a reserved mountain forest ascended to the upper reaches. There are only three families in the cordon. But still, from time to time, the shop came to visit the foresters.
The only boy in all three yards, he was always the first to notice the caravan.
- Rides! He shouted, running to the doors and windows. - The shop's car is coming!
The wheel road made its way here from the coast of Issyk-Kul, all the time along the gorge, along the river bank, all the time over stones and bumps. It was not very easy to drive on such a road. When she reached Karaulnaya Gora, she climbed from the bottom of the gorge to the slope and from there descended for a long time along the steep and bare slope to the yards of the foresters. The Guard Mountain is very close - in the summer, almost every day, the boy ran there to look at the lake with binoculars. And there, on the road, everything is always visible at a glance - both on foot, and on horseback, and, of course, a car.
That time - and it happened in a hot summer - the boy was swimming in his dam and from here he saw the car get dusty on the slope. The dam was on the edge of a river bank, on pebbles. It was built by my grandfather from stones. If it were not for this dam, who knows, maybe the boy would have been dead for a long time. And, as the grandmother said, the river would have washed his bones long ago and carried them straight to Issyk-Kul, and fish and all kinds of water creatures would look at them there. And no one would look for him and kill him - because there is nothing to get into the water and because it doesn't hurt who needs him. So far, this has not happened. And if it happened, who knows, the grandmother might really not have rushed to save. He would also be her family, otherwise, she says, a stranger. And a stranger is always a stranger, no matter how much you feed him, no matter how much you follow him. A stranger ... What if he doesn't want to be a stranger? And why exactly should he be considered a stranger? Maybe not he, but the grandmother herself is a stranger?
But more about that later, and about grandfather's dam also later ...
So, then, he saw a caravan, it was going down the mountain, and behind it along the road the dust was swirling behind it. And so he was delighted, he knew for sure that a portfolio would be bought for him. He immediately jumped out of the water, quickly pulled on his trousers over his skinny thighs and, himself still wet, turning blue — the water in the river is cold — ran along the path to the courtyard to be the first to announce the arrival of the caravan.
The boy ran quickly, jumping over the bushes and running around the boulders, if he was not able to jump them, and did not linger anywhere for a second - neither near tall grasses, nor near stones, although he knew that they were not at all simple. They could be offended and even substitute a leg. "The shop's car has arrived. I'll come later," he threw on the move to "Lying Camel" - as he called the red hunchbacked granite, which sank into the ground up to his chest. Usually the boy did not pass by without patting his "Camel" on the hump. He clapped him in a prodigal manner, like the grandfather of his bob-tailed gelding - so, casually, in passing; You, they say, wait, and I will be absent here on business. He had a boulder "Saddle" - half white, half black, piebald stone with a saddle, where you could sit astride a horse. There was also a stone "Wolf" - very similar to a wolf, brown, with gray hair, with a powerful nape and a heavy forehead. He crawled up to him and took aim. But the most beloved stone is "Tank", an indestructible block near the river on a washed-out bank. So wait, "Tank" will rush from the bank and go, and the river will gurgle, boil with white breakers. Tanks go to the cinema this way: from the shore into the water - and went ... The boy rarely saw films and therefore remembered what he saw. My grandfather sometimes took his grandson to the cinema at the state farm pedigree farm in the neighboring tract behind the mountain. That is why "Tank" appeared on the bank, always ready to rush across the river. There were also others - "harmful" or "good" stones, and even "cunning" and "stupid".
Among the plants there are also "loved ones", "brave", "fearful", "evil" and all sorts of others. A prickly thug, for example, is the main enemy. The boy hacked him dozens of times a day. But the end of this war was not in sight - the thug grew and multiplied. But field bindweed, although they are also weeds, are the smartest and funniest flowers. They are best greeted by the sun in the morning. Other herbs do not understand anything - that morning, that evening, they do not care. And the bindweed, just warm the rays, open their eyes, laugh. First one eye, then the second, and then one by one all the swirls of flowers bloom on the bindweed. White, light blue, lilac, different ... And if you sit next to them quite quietly, it seems that they, waking up, are inaudibly whispering about something. Ants - and they know it. In the morning they run through the bindweed, squint in the sun and listen to what the flowers are talking about among themselves. Maybe dreams are told?
During the day, usually at noon, the boy liked to climb into thickets of stalked shiraljins. Shiraljins are tall, there are no flowers on them, but fragrant, they grow in islands, gather in a heap, not allowing other herbs to come close. The Shiraljins are loyal friends. Especially if there is some kind of offense and you want to cry so that no one sees, it is best to hide in shiraljins. They smell like a pine forest at the edge. Hot and quiet in the shiraljins. And most importantly, they do not obscure the sky. You have to lie on your back and look at the sky. At first, through tears, almost nothing is discerned. And then the clouds will come and they will make whatever you think of above. The clouds know that you are not very good, that you want to leave somewhere, go fly away so that no one finds you and so that everyone sighs and gasps later - the boy disappears, they say, where will we find him now? .. And so that this does not happen, so that you don't disappear anywhere, so that you lie quietly and admire the clouds, the clouds will turn into whatever you want. The same clouds make all sorts of things. You just need to be able to find out what the clouds represent.
And in the shiraljins it is quiet, and they do not obscure the sky. These are they, shiraljins, smelling of hot pines ...
And he also knew different differences about herbs. He treated the silvery feather grass that grew in the floodplain meadow with condescension. They are weirdos - feather grass! Windy heads. Eid soft, silky panicles cannot live without wind. They just wait - wherever it blows, there they lean. And everyone bows as one, the whole meadow, as if on command. And if it starts raining or a thunderstorm starts, they don’t know the feather grass where to stick to. They rush, fall, cuddle to the ground. If there were legs, they would probably run away wherever their eyes look ... But they are pretending to be. The thunderstorm will subside, and again frivolous feathers in the wind - wherever the wind goes, there they too ...
Alone, without friends, the boy lived in the circle of those simple things that surrounded him, and unless the shop could make him forget about everything and run headlong towards her. What can I say, the shop is not stones or some herbs for you. What is not there, in the shop!
When the boy reached the house, the caravan was already approaching the yard, behind the houses. The houses on the cordon faced the river, the courtyard turned into a gentle slope straight to the bank, and on the other side of the river, immediately from the washed-out ravine, the forest rose steeply up the mountains, so that there was only one approach to the cordon - behind the houses. If the boy had not reached in time, no one would have known that the caravan was already here.
There were no men at that hour, everyone had left in the morning. The women were doing household chores. But then he shouted shrilly, running to the open doors:
- Has arrived! The store's car has arrived! The women were alarmed. We rushed to look for the hidden money. And they jumped out, overtaking one another. Grandma and she praised him:
- Here we have what big-eyed!
The boy felt flattered, as if he had brought the shop himself. He was happy to bring them the news, because he rushed with them into the backyard, because he was jostling with them at the open door of the van. But here the women immediately forgot about him. They had no time for him. The goods are different - the eyes ran up. There were only three women: grandmother, aunt Bekey - the sister of his mother, the wife of the most important man in the cordon, the patrolman Orozkul - and the wife of an auxiliary worker Seidakhmat - young Guljamal with her girl in her arms. Only three women. But they fussed so much, sorted out and stirred up the goods so that the shop assistant had to demand that they observe the queue and not chatter all at once.
However, his words had little effect on women. First, they grabbed everything, then they began to choose, then return what they had taken away. They put off, tried on, argued, doubted, asked dozens of times about the same thing. One thing they didn’t like, the other was expensive, the third had the wrong color ... The boy stood aside. He got bored. The expectation of something extraordinary disappeared, the joy that he experienced when he saw a car shop on the mountain disappeared. The shop suddenly turned into an ordinary car, filled with a bunch of different rubbish.
The seller frowned: it was not evident that these women were going to buy anything. Why did he go here, so far, over the mountains?
And so it learned. The women began to retreat, their ardor was tempered, they seemed to be even tired. For some reason, they began to make excuses - either to each other, or to the seller. The grandma was the first to complain that there was no money. And if you don't have money in your hands, you won't take the goods. Aunt Bekey did not dare to make a major purchase without her husband. Aunt Bekey is the most unhappy among all women in the world, because she has no children, for this Orozkul beats her intoxicated, that's why grandfather suffers, because Aunt Bekey is his grandfather's daughter. Aunt Bekey took a little something and two bottles of vodka. And in vain and in vain - the very same will be worse. The grandmother could not resist:
- Why are you calling trouble on your own head? She hissed so that the seller would not hear her.
“I know myself,” Aunt Bekey snapped shortly.
“What a fool,” the grandmother whispered even more quietly, but gloatingly. If it weren't for the salesperson, she'd be scolding Aunt Bekey right now. Wow, they swear! ..
Young Guljamal helped out. She began to explain to the seller that her Seidakhmat was going to the city soon, the city would need money, so she could not shell out.
So they knocked about near the shop, bought goods "for a penny", as the seller said, and went home. Well, is this trade! After spitting after the women who had left, the seller began to collect the tousled goods in order to get behind the wheel and drive away. Then he noticed the boy.
- What are you, big-eared? - he asked. The boy had protruding ears, a slender neck, and a large, round head. - Do you want to buy? So hurry up, or I'll close it. Do you have money?
The seller asked so, just because there was nothing to do, but the boy replied respectfully:
- No, uncle, no money, - and shook his head.
“And I think there is,” the seller drawled with mock disbelief. “You’re all rich here, just pretend to be poor. And you have that in your pocket, isn't it money.
“No, uncle,” the boy answered, as before, sincerely and seriously, and turned out his tattered pocket. (The second pocket was sewn up tightly.)
- So your money was waking up. Look where you ran. You will find it.
They were silent.
- Whose will you be? - the seller began to ask again. - Old man Momun, or what?
The boy nodded back.
- Are you a grandson?
- Yes. The boy nodded again.
- Where's your mother?
The boy said nothing. He didn't want to talk about it.
“She’s not giving any news of herself at all, your mother. You don't know yourself, or what?
- I do not know.
- And the father? Don't you know too?
The boy was silent.
- Why are you, friend, do not know anything? - the seller jokingly reproached him. - Well, okay, if so. Here you go. ”He took out a handful of sweets. - And be healthy.
The boy was shy.
- Take it, take it. Don't delay. It's time for me to go. The boy put the sweets in his pocket and was about to run after the car in order to escort the shop to the road. He called Baltek, a terribly lazy, shaggy dog. Orozkul kept threatening to shoot him - why, they say, keep such a dog. Yes, the grandfather begged to wait a little: it was necessary, they say, to get a shepherd dog, and take Baltek somewhere and leave. Baltek did not care about anything - the well-fed slept, the hungry always suck up to someone, to his own and strangers indiscriminately, just to throw someone. That was how he was, the dog Baltek. But sometimes, out of boredom, he ran after cars. True, not far. It will only accelerate, then suddenly it will turn around and start scurrying home. Unreliable dog. Still, running with a dog is a hundred times better than running without a dog. Whatever is - all the same a dog ...
Slowly, so that the seller would not see, the boy threw one candy to Baltek. "Look," he warned the dog. "We will run for a long time." Baltek squealed, wagged his tail - he waited more. But the boy did not dare to throw in another candy. After all, you can offend a person, he did not give a whole handful for a dog.
And just then the grandfather appeared. The old man went to the apiary, but from the apiary it is not visible what is going on behind the houses. And so it turned out that the grandfather arrived in time, the shop has not left yet. Happening. Otherwise, the grandson would not have a portfolio. The boy was lucky that day.