Anatoly Rybakov - THE BRONZE BIRD

" 'I have taken one,of the diamonds with me and have hidden the other. Since you proved smart enough to drive me out of the house, we'll see if you're smart enough to find that diamond. Your family emblem shows you where it is hidden.' That is approximately what the old count wrote. It was cruel revenge. The search for that diamond proved to be the undoing of this family. They searched for it before the Revolution. They dug up every inch of the ground around here and quarrelled among themselves. Some went mad, others poisoned or shot themselves."

"And they didn't find it?" Misha asked anxiously. It was all he could do to refrain from shouting, "I know where the hiding-place is! I know where the diamond is buried!"

The doctor shook his head.

"You can't imagine what went on here. But they found nothing."

Doing his best to curb his excitement, Misha asked:

"But the count wrote that it's connected with the family emblem. What did he have in mind?"

He asked his question without looking up, for he was afraid that his eyes would betray him.

The doctor sat astride the carriage, picked up the reins and took the whip, which was sticking out of a small leather pocket.

"What he had in mind? The emblem. That bird," the doctor said, pointing with his whip at the house where the bronze bird gleamed golden in the rays o? the setting sun. "That eagle was supposed to provide the answer."

With an affected laugh, Misha asked:

"How can the eagle provide an answer? It can't talk."

"That is true, but inside the bird there is a hiding-place."

"What did you say?" Misha asked, scarcely able to pronounce the words.

The doctor looked at him.

"What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Misha said with a forced smile, struggling to control himself. "I never thought there was a hiding-place in the bird."

"Yes, there is a hiding-place," the doctor said, "and a very simple one, too. The head folds back when you press the eyes. An ordinary spring."

Stunned, Misha gazed at the doctor, but the latter did not notice the state he was in and continued:

"There was a drawing in the hiding-place. According to it, the diamond is hidden in the woods about four versts from here. They dug up the whole woods and even today some odd chaps are digging Way there. True, the fever has dropped a little, but they are still digging."

"And they all knew about that drawing?" Misha mumbled miserably.

"Yes, of course. At first it was kept secret, but everybody saw them digging in the woods and it was impossible to keep it a secret for any length of time. Almost everybody in the village had a copy of the drawing."

"But perhaps, perhaps... it was not the real drawing," Misha said in a crushed voice.

"There's only one plan. All the people in the neighbourhood knew it by heart. A verst to the north, another to the north-west, then a verst, I think, due west. I can't vouch for it, it was so long ago. But everybody knew it by heart and there was even a song about it:

If a verst you will go,

A diamond will you 'find;

Another you will go,

Another will you find;

A third you will go,

Nothing will you find...

"That's the song." The doctor loosened the reins. "Now you know the whole story. Well, all right. Don't forget to restrain your patient and give him less to eat. Keep him on a diet for a while."

"A diet... yes... of course..." Misha repeated without knowing what he was saying. His eyes dully followed the doctor, gazing at his broad back in the black frock-coat bobbing up and down as the carriage took the pits and bumps, behind the huge horse that walked with a heavy gait, lazily whisking the gad-flies away with its tail.

His head in a whirl, Misha returned to the camp. He was met by the usual evening bustle. The youngsters were cooking supper, washing themselves before turning in, putting away their collections of flowers and their albums, or making up the beds in the tents. Some of the girls were correcting the exercise-books of the villagers attending the illiteracy-abolition class. It was the time of the evening when everybody was tired but was sorry that the day was ending, when it was particularly lively because the whole troop was in camp; the day was waning and haste had to be made to take advantage of the last of the daylight.

Misha carried out his duties mechanically. The thought of the rebuff he had just received never left his head. What humiliation! All their efforts had been in vain. Those agonizing nights in the museum, the night expedition to the Goligin Brushwood Road, the search for the bronze bird in the manor, the discovery of the hiding-place and the stealing of the drawing-all that had been futile, a waste of time. He had imagined he was cleverer than everybody else. If only nobody found out! Genka and Slava could be trusted to keep their mouths shut-they too had made fools of themselves. But how was he to tell them the truth? His prestige would suffer an irreparable blow.

Genka and Slava were in the best of spirits. They had no 'idea of what Misha was thinking and walked about the camp arm-in-arm, exchanging mysterious whispers and giving their friends good-natured, indulgent looks, which as much as said: innocent children having their usual fun and quite unaware that soon a tremendous, startling secret would be opened to them!

Seeing Misha, they went up to him and Genka whispered conspiratorially that he had found a page of tracing-paper in a book and that if they were to put it over the drawing they could make an excellent copy. Misha nodded, giving Genka to understand that he could take the page out of the book and use it to make a copy of the drawing.

Genka added that this book contained not one but three such pages and that it would be a good idea to make three copies. If they did that, each could have a copy. Just in case one of the copies was lost. It was useful to have throe copies. You.could never tell what might happen in such a dangerous undertaking. You had to be ready to meet all contingencies.

Misha agreed to that as well.

Then Genka said that since it was already dark, they would make the copies in the morning, when the troop would go to the village. Misha agreed. Slava noted that he and Genka would have to be excused from work in the club. Misha made,no objection. He let his friends have their way in everything. It was all useless anyway, but he could not summon up enough courage to tell them the truth. Let them busy themselves with anything they liked so long as that kept them from asking questions.

The next morning, Misha woke up with a headache and with a feeling of physical weakness that people experience after a restless night. But, as usual, he lined up the troop after breakfast and marched them to the village. Genka and Slava were left behind on duty, so that in their spare time they could make copies of the drawing.

Misha's sombre thoughts followed him into the club. He took no part in anything, but sat on a bench and sadly gazed at the future Young Pioneers. They had been divided into sections, knew the rules and regulations, had studied the text of the solemn oath, but could not learn to march. Each knew his right hand from his left, but at the order: "Right turn," invariably turned to the left, and at the order: "Left turn," turned to the right. At the order: "About turn," they bumped into each other. They could not march in step. What could be simpler: "Left, right, left, right." But no, they fell out of step each time. One's stride was long, another's short, some skipped, others dragged their feet like invalids, and still others kept stepping on the heels of those in front of them.

Then look how they stood in line! Some stuck their stomachs out, others had their toes a foot apart. If you told them to take in their stomachs, they'd bend over almost to the ground. Some were barefoot, others wore felt boots in this heat! If you gave the order, "Eyes right," you'd get a semicircle instead of a straight line: each would move up to get a good view of the chap on the right flank in spite of your explaining that it's only the fifth man from you that you had to see.