Anatoly Rybakov - THE BRONZE BIRD

The servants' hall was a big room with a low ceiling. It was enough to stand on one's toes to reach the ceiling, which consisted of old, time-blackened logs evenly, squared and full of lengthwise cracks. The walls were made of similar logs with the grooves between them filled with tow.

Everything in it was old, blackened by smoke. The table, long, narrow and resting on wobbly trestles, stretched along one of the walls. Its top, made of thin, narrow boards, had cracked. Behind the table was a narrow bench fixed to the wall. With the exception of a pole that hung beneath the ceiling with either end touching a wall, there was nothing else in the room. None of the youngsters could explain what the pole was there for.

A low, broad door, with the paint peeling off, connected the servants' hall with the rest of the house. When Misha touched it, he found that it was held in place by nails that lay insecurely in their sockets. A good push was enough to make it fly open.

The youngsters started tidying up the "hospital," as the Bleater named the hall. They swept out the rubbish, and washed the floor and the windows. Then they made a bed of fir branches on the bench and laid Seva on it.

To prevent any collision with the old woman, Misha put the manor grounds out of bounds except for whoever was detailed to look after Seva. But he went there a few times, telling himself that after all he was the person responsible for Seva... Besides, he was interested in the house. Each time he went to the "hospital" he stood at the door and listened. There was a deathly stillness behind it. Once or twice he thought he could hear somebody on the other side listening to what was going on in the servants' hall. He could not tell why that thought came to him. Perhaps it was because the silence behind the door was much too tense and the house itself was much too mysterious. When Misha tried the door to see how firmly it held, the thought that somebody was behind it listening came to him again. He left the door in peace.

On the next day, the old woman took the train to town, no doubt to complain to Serov again. Unquestionably, Serov would make an attempt to force the troop to move Seva from the house. Misha did not want to do that just yet. By being in the manor there was the possibility that he would learn something. They had to stay there at all costs. Naturally, it would be a good thing if Seva got well quickly, but if he did they would chase them out. Each time Misha asked Seva how he felt, the wanted to hear something reassuring about his health and at the same time something that would mean that Seva would have to stay in the house a while longer.

But in the morning, Seva said he felt better, and towards evening declared he was bored with having to lie in the house and would get up in the morning.

"You just try," Misha threatened him. "You'll get up when the doctor says you can. He won't allow it soon-after a sore throat you have to stay in bed for a few days or there may be complications."

With similar anxiety Misha looked at the thermometer. How quickly fever falls! It was 103.8 yesterday, but now it was 98. Happily, in the evening Seva's temperature rose to 98.8

"You see how your temperature jumps," he said to Seva. "That's the most dangerous part of it. Aren't I right, Bleater?"

The Bleater was very happy to be in charge of the hospital and he quickly agreed that an unstable temperature was very dangerous. Seva had to stay in bed if he wanted to get well!

But sooner or later Seva would recover. And it would be sooner rather than later. Then they would have to leave the servants' hall. How could that be averted?

While Misha was pondering over this problem, the old woman returned. She returned in Misha's absence, went to the servants' hall, stopped in the doorway and demanded:

"How soon will your patient get well?"

The Nekrasova sisters were on duty at Seva's bedside. The woman's tone frightened them and they answered quickly:

"He's feeling much better. He'll be up tomorrow."

The "countess" walked away.

When Misha arrived and the matter was reported to him, he was terribly put out.

"Who told you to say that?" he cried angrily. "How do you know that Seva will be up tomorrow? What if he isn't well by then? What if he's still ill when the countess will tell us to take him away? That's what you did with your brainless chatter!"

"We lost our heads," the girls said, trying to justify themselves. "We were afraid she would tell us to get out there and then."

"I'm going to town tomorrow," Misha said, "and until I come back Seva is to remain in this house. Even if the doctor says he's well. Is that clear?"

Misha went to the town to make another try at finding the secret of the bronze bird. It was impossible to do that in the daytime, for the attendant was on duty and there were visitors, but at night it was different. His plan was that he and Genka would conceal themselves behind a curtain, wait until the museum would be closed and then examine the bronze bird without interruption.

The boys entered the museum an hour before closing time. They now knew their way about and that there were two exits-one into the street and the other into the yard. The attendant's routine was first to shut the front door and then to go round to the yard and shut the back door. The boys decided to stay in the museum all night and in the morning to hide behind the curtain again, wait for the attendant to come and open the museum, and then to slip out into the street or to pretend they had just come.

Everything went off according to plan. The museum was empty. Before hiding behind a curtain, Misha and Genka waited until the attendant went into one of the rooms. Only then did Misha realize how difficult it had been for Slava: there was so much dust that it was hardly possible to breathe. He was afraid that Genka would not be able to stand it and would sneeze. But Genka staunchly held out and did not sneeze.

The shuffling footfalls of the attendant drew near.:

The boys held their breath. The steps stopped at the curtain, Misha and Genka stood stock-still.

The attendant broke out into a fit of coughing. The boys could not see what he did in the room... Then he shuffled off again, the sounds of his footsteps growing fainter and fainter. A metallic ring came from the direction of the front door-it was the watchman securing a heavy metal hook. That was followed by a thud-it was the wooden bolt. And finally came the creak of the lock. The door was closed!

Again the boys heard the shuffling footsteps. At first they drew nearer and then began to recede. Misha drew the curtain aside and listened. A door was banged shut. Then he heard the grating of a key in a lock. That was all! The boys had the museum to themselves!

After waiting a few minutes longer, they took off their boots, went barefoot to the back door and carefully tried it-it was locked. They went through all the rooms. The evening light struggled through the folds of the curtains. The pictures on the walls looked mysteriously dark, the glass cases on the tables shone in the semi-darkness. The stuffed animals and birds cut weird figures.

The boys returned to the Life of the Gentry department. Genka stayed in the corridor to be able to warn Misha of danger.

Misha took the rope down and carefully, without haste, examined the bronze bird.

First, he slowly ran his fingers over it, trying to find a slit or a hole: perhaps it was opened with a key? But there was no opening. Then he tried to turn separate parts of the bird: the head, the crest, one wing, then the other, one leg, then the other. He tried to turn the talons, the feathers. But nothing turned, nothing opened, nothing moved.

Misha began to grow anxious. Were they going to fail again? Had all this risk been taken for nothing? The darkness bothered him most of all. Should he turn on his torch? No, that was dangerous. Somebody in the street might notice the light and there would be the devil to pay. They would be accused of trying to steal something in the museum. That would be a blow to the whole troop. He knew he had to cast all this worrying out of his mind. He had to be calm, to keep himself in hand. He had to begin from the beginning. There must be some way of opening the bird!