Anatoly Rybakov - THE BRONZE BIRD

"How is it going?" Genka asked quietly, going up to Misha.

"Stay at your post and don't talk," Misha whispered in reply.

Genka returned to his post and Misha again bent to his task. Had Slava been wrong in thinking there was a hiding-place in the bird? Slava could not have been wrong. He always had a reason for saying things. He was not Genka. Genka could come out with a lot of nonsense, but not Slava.

Misha continued examining the bird. He mustered all his coolness, told himself he could not afford to worry, to fuss, that he had to examine every inch of the bird.

He took a long time over it. Genka went to him a few times to offer his assistance.

"You'll see, Misha," he whispered impatiently, "I'll find it in a jiffy."

Misha kept ordering him back to the corridor, but yielded in the end. Leaving Genka to examine the bird, he took Genka's place in the corridor.

"Only be careful not to break it," he warned. "That'll put the lid on everything."

"You can trust me," Genka growled back at him.

Although Genka did his best, breathed heavily and every other minute muttered, "Aha, I've found it," he too came away empty-handed.

Misha again took over, but again without result. The first beam of the rising sun was already slanting across the floor. Misha glanced at his huge watch-it was five o'clock. The museum would be opened at nine.

The boys feverishly went on with their search. They turned their attention to the pedestal-a small, round column of coloured stone. The bird was firmly cemented to its top. But the column was quite smooth. They carefully tipped it over. But there was nothing on the underside.

Possibly Slava had been mistaken after all and the hiding-place was not in the bird but somewhere else? The boys carefully examined the table, the armchairs and all the other objects in the room. The wardrobes were all that they could not examine because they were locked.

But the search was fruitless.

Misha looked at his watch. It was half past eight. Opening time was at nine. The attendant might appear at any moment now. It was strange that he was not there already, because it was his job to tidy up the museum before any visitors came.

The boys looked round to see if they had left any signs of their search and hid behind the curtain, waiting for the watchman to arrive.

In their hiding-place, the boys strained their ears for the creak of the door. But there was no sound. Misha looked at his watch again. It was exactly nine. What could that mean?

Misha glanced at his watch every minute. The minute hand moved forward slowly but surely. The watch showed a quarter past nine, then half past nine. What could the matter be? On the plaque at the entrance it was clearly written: Open from 9 a.m. to 7 'p.m. Closed for lunch from 2 -p.m. to 3 p.m. Daily except on...

Suddenly Misha gaped at Genka and asked:

"What day is today?"

"Monday. Why?"

"It was Monday yesterday, when we came here."

"That's right, then it's Tuesday."

"Tuesday," Misha repeated. "The museum is closed on Tuesdays."

"How do you know?"

"The inscription on the plaque says: Daily except on Tuesdays."

"I like that!" Genka drawled. "Some mess!"

"How the heck didn't I think of it!" Misha said, angry with himself. "I knew the museum is closed on Tuesdays. We left the camp on Monday and I forgot that we'd stay here until Tuesday. How didn't I think of it? What a fool!"

"That's because you do and decide things all by your sweet self. You never ask other people for advice," Genka said.

He thought this was a splendid opportunity to have a serious talk with Misha about his isolating himself from the collective.

"A fine time you've picked for moralizing!" Misha said angrily. "Why are you all trying to moralize? Slava, Zina, and now you!"

"Have they spoken to you already?" Genka asked in surprise.

"Yes. But that's not important now. We must find a way out of here. Oh, I could kick myself!"

Silently they left their hiding-place and made their way to the back door. It was locked. The boys listened. Animated cries and laughter came from the yard. Children were playing there.

They went to the front door, moved back the bolt and took the big metal hook off its rest. The door did not budge: it, too, was locked and the attendant had the key. That put the doors out of the reckoning.

The boys replaced the bolt and the hook and returned to the Life of the Gentry room. The only possible means of escape left to them was a window. But all the windows gave out on the street and there was a wire net between the double frames.

Weary hours dragged by. The excitement of the previous night and now hunger had worn the boys down completely. Misha kept on his feet through sheer will-power, but Genka sat on the floor and dozed with his head on his knees.

Misha decided they would sleep by turns. First Genka, then he. Genka immediately stretched out on a divan and fell fast asleep.

Misha walked about the museum, stupefied by the oppressive silence and the close air. But he courageously fought back his drowsiness. He walked about without stop, afraid to sit down even for a second.

The fauna department held his attention for a little while. The stuffed animals and birds had tricky Latin words beneath their Russian names. In glass cases were insects of all sizes, a field-mouse and a house-mouse. Misha wondered why there was a house-mouse. The field-mouse could pass muster, but the house-mouse... Who hadn't seen one?

Two hours went by. Misha was very sleepy, but he did not wake Genka. If Genka did not get enough sleep, he would drowse while he was on duty.

For two hours longer Misha walked about as in a dream.

Finally, he woke Genka up. The latter stretched and yawned and could not understand where he was.

"Wake me up in two hours," Misha said to him, "and don't fall asleep. If you feel you want to sleep very badly, wake me up. Understand!"

"You can depend on me," Genka replied, yawning and stretching.

Misha lay down on a divan and was asleep in a trice.

He woke up without anybody waking him. It was already dark. He glanced at his "alarm clock" and got a shock. He had slept for eight hours! He jumped to his feet. Where was Genka? Misha could not find him in any of the rooms.

Where could he have got to? He could not have gone away and left him, Misha, behind! To make sure, Misha examined both doors. They were locked, as before.

Misha could not understand it and began to worry. Perhaps Genka was sleeping, curled up in some corner?

Misha looked everywhere, but Genka was nowhere to be found.

When Misha had almost given up all hope of finding Genka, he suddenly heard somebody snoring. The snoring came from the Religion-Opium for the People room. Yes, there was no mistake about it. But where was Genka? Misha listened again and when he finally realized where the snoring was coming from he went cold with fear: it was coming from a coffin in the middle of the room. The inscription on it said it was a shrine, which was supposed to contain somebody's remains, but which was empty, as anyone could see simply by glancing into it.

Trembling with fright, Misha went up to the coffin and lifted the lid.

He was right. Genka, with one arm under his cheek, was unconcernedly asleep in the coffin.

To leave his post! To fall asleep! Misha gave Genka such a nudge in the ribs that he nearly turned the coffin over.;

"What of it?" Genka said, defending himself. "There'll be no visitors here today anyway and, besides, somebody might have heard me if I had been walking about the place. As it is, both of us have had a beauty of a sleep."

"Who gave you the right to leave your post?" Misha said, his temper rising. "If you wanted to sleep so badly you could have woken me up."