Yuri Kazakov: Quiet morning. Read online "quiet morning" Volodya finally managed to get his boots off and trembling

The sleepy roosters had just crowed, it was still dark in the hut, the mother had not milked the cow and the shepherd had not driven the flock out into the meadows, when Yashka woke up.

He sat up in bed and stared for a long time at the bluish sweaty windows and the dimly whitening stove. The pre-dawn sleep is sweet, and his head falls on the pillow, his eyes are stuck together, but Yashka overcame himself, stumbling, clinging to benches and chairs, and began to wander around the hut, looking for old pants and a shirt.

After eating milk and bread, Yashka took fishing rods in the entryway and went out onto the porch. The village was covered with fog, like a big duvet. The nearby houses were still visible, the distant ones were barely visible as dark spots, and even further, towards the river, nothing was visible, and it seemed as if there had never been a windmill on the hill, no fire tower, no school, no forest on the horizon... Everything disappeared , hid now, and the center of the small closed world turned out to be Yashkin’s hut.

Someone woke up before Yashka and was hammering near the forge; and pure metallic sounds, breaking through the veil of fog, reached a large invisible barn and returned from there already weakened. It seemed as if two people were knocking: one louder, the other quieter.

Yashka jumped off the porch, swung his fishing rods at a rooster that had turned up at his feet, and trotted cheerfully toward the barn. At the barn, he pulled out a rusty mower from under the board and began digging the ground. Almost immediately, red and purple cold worms began to appear. Thick and thin, they sank equally quickly into the loose soil, but Yashka still managed to grab them and soon filled up an almost full jar. Having sprinkled fresh earth on the worms, he ran down the path, tumbled over the fence and made his way backwards to the barn, where his new friend Volodya was sleeping in the hayloft.

Yashka put his soil-stained fingers in his mouth and whistled. Then he spat and listened. It was quiet.

Volodka! - he called. - Get up!

Volodya stirred in the hay, fidgeted and rustled there for a long time, and finally awkwardly climbed down, stepping on his untied shoelaces. His face, wrinkled after sleep, was senseless and motionless, like a blind man’s, hay dust was in his hair, and it apparently got into his shirt, because, standing below, next to Yashka, he kept jerking his thin neck, rolled his shoulders and scratched his back.

Isn't it early? - he asked hoarsely, yawned and, swaying, grabbed the stairs with his hand.

Yashka got angry: he got up a whole hour early, dug up worms, brought fishing rods... and to tell the truth, he got up today because of this runt, he wanted to show him the fishing spots - and now instead of gratitude and admiration - “early !

For some it’s too early, and for some it’s not too early! - he answered angrily and looked Volodya from head to toe with disdain.

Volodya looked out into the street, his face became animated, his eyes sparkled, and he began hastily lacing up his shoes. But for Yashka, all the charm of the morning was already poisoned.

Are you going to wear boots? - he asked contemptuously and looked at the protruding toe of his bare foot. “Will you wear galoshes?”

Volodya remained silent, blushed and began working on the other shoe.

Well, yes... - Yashka continued melancholy, putting the fishing rods against the wall. - Over there, in Moscow, I suppose they don’t go barefoot...

So what? - Volodya looked down into Yashka’s wide, mockingly angry face.

Nothing... Run home, grab your coat...

Well, I'll run! - Volodya answered through clenched teeth and blushed even more.

Yashka got bored. He shouldn't have gotten involved with this whole thing. Why should Kolka and Zhenka Voronkovs be fishermen, and they even admit that there is no better fisherman in the entire collective farm than him. Just take me to the place and show me - they’ll cover you with apples! And this one... came yesterday, polite... “Please, please...” Should I hit him in the neck, or what? It was necessary to contact this Muscovite, who, probably, has never even seen a fish, goes fishing in boots!..

“And you put on a tie,” Yashka said sarcastically and laughed hoarsely. “Our fish get offended when you go near them without a tie.”

Volodya finally managed to take off his boots and, his nostrils quivering with resentment, looking straight ahead with an unseeing gaze, left the barn. He was ready to give up fishing and immediately burst into tears, but he was so looking forward to this morning! Yashka reluctantly followed him, and the guys silently, without looking at each other, walked down the street. They walked through the village, and the fog receded before them, revealing more and more houses, and barns, and a school, and long rows of milky-white farm buildings... Like a stingy owner, he showed all this only for a minute and then closed tightly behind him again .

Volodya suffered severely. He was not angry with himself for his rude answers to Yashka, he was angry with Yashka and at that moment seemed awkward and pitiful to himself. He was ashamed of his awkwardness, and in order to somehow drown out this unpleasant feeling, he thought, becoming embittered: “Okay, let him... Let him mock me, they will still recognize me, I won’t let them laugh! Just think, the importance of going barefoot is great! Imagine what! But at the same time, he looked with open envy and even admiration at Yashka’s bare feet, and at the canvas fish bag, and at the patched trousers and gray shirt worn especially for fishing. He envied Yashka’s tan and his gait, in which his shoulders and shoulder blades and even his ears move, and which many village children consider to be especially chic.

We passed by a well with an old log house overgrown with greenery.

Stop! - Yashka said gloomily. “Let’s have a drink!”

He went up to the well, rattled his chain, pulled out a heavy tub of water and greedily leaned into it. He didn’t want to drink, but he believed that there was nowhere better than this water, and therefore every time he passed by the well, he drank it with great pleasure. The water, overflowing over the edge of the tub, splashed on his bare feet, he tucked them in, but he drank and drank, occasionally breaking away and breathing noisily.

“Here, drink,” he finally said to Volodya, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

Volodya also didn’t want to drink, but in order not to anger Yashka even more, he obediently fell down to the tub and began to take small sips of water until the back of his head ached from the cold.

Well, how's the water? - Yashka inquired smugly when Volodya walked away from the well.

Legitimate! - Volodya responded and shivered.

I suppose there isn’t one like this in Moscow? - Yashka squinted venomously.

Volodya didn’t answer, he just sucked in air through clenched teeth and smiled reconcilingly.

Have you caught fish? - asked Yashka.

No... Only on the Moscow River I saw how they were caught,” Volodya confessed in a fallen voice and timidly looked at Yashka.

This confession softened Yashka somewhat, and he, touching the can of worms, said casually:

Yesterday our manager of the club in the Pleshansky Bochaga saw a catfish...

Volodya's eyes sparkled.

Big?

What did you think? About two meters... Or maybe all three - it was impossible to make out in the darkness. Our club manager was already scared, he thought it was a crocodile. Do not believe?

You're lying! - Volodya exhaled enthusiastically and shrugged his shoulders; it was clear from his eyes that he believed everything unconditionally.

I'm lying? - Yashka was amazed. - If you want, let’s go fishing this evening! Well?

Can i? - Volodya asked hopefully, and his ears turned pink.

Why... - Yashka spat, wiped his nose with his sleeve. - I have the tackle. We'll catch frogs and loaches... We'll capture the crawlies - there are still chubs there - and it'll be two dawns! We'll light a fire at night... Will you go?

Volodya felt incredibly cheerful, and only now did he feel how good it was to leave the house in the morning. How nice and easy it is to breathe, how you want to run along this soft road, rush at full speed, jumping and squealing with delight!

Why was that strange sound back there? Who was it that suddenly, as if striking a tight string over and over again, screamed clearly and melodiously in the meadows? Where was it with him? Or maybe it wasn’t? But why then is this feeling of delight and happiness so familiar?

What was that crackling so loudly in the field? Motorcycle?” Volodya looked questioningly at Yashka.

Tractor! - Yashka answered importantly.

Tractor? But why does it crack?

It's starting... It'll start soon... Listen. Whoa... Did you hear that? Buzzed! Well, now he’ll go... This is Fedya Kostylev - he plowed all night with headlights, slept a little and went again...

Volodya looked in the direction from which the roar of the tractor was heard, and immediately asked:

Are your fogs always like this?

Not... when it’s clean. And when it’s later, closer to September, you’ll see that it will hit you with frost. In general, the fish takes it in the fog - have time to carry it!

What kind of fish do you have?

Fish? All kinds of fish... And there are crucian carp on the reaches, pike, well, then these... perch, roach, bream... And tench. Do you know tench? Like a pig... So fat! The first time I caught it, my mouth was agape.

How many can you catch?

Hm... Anything can happen. Another time it was five kilos, and another time it was only... for a cat.

What's that whistle? - Volodya stopped, raising his head

This? These are ducks flying... Teals.

Yeah... I know. And what's that?

The blackbirds are ringing... They flew to the rowan tree to visit Aunt Nastya in the garden. When did you catch blackbirds?

Never caught...

Mishka Kayunenka has a net, just wait, let's go catch it. They, blackbirds, are greedy... They fly through the fields in flocks, taking worms from under the tractor. Stretch the net, throw in rowan berries, hide and wait. As soon as they fly, about five of them will immediately crawl under the net... They are funny... Not all of them, really, but there are smart ones... I had one all winter, he could do it in every way: both as a steam locomotive and as a saw.

The village was soon left behind, low-growing oats stretched endlessly, and a dark strip of forest was barely visible ahead.

How much longer to go? - asked Volodya.

Soon... It’s nearby, let’s go,” Yashka answered every time.

They came out onto a hillock, turned right, went down a ravine, followed a path through a flax field, and then, quite unexpectedly, a river opened up in front of them. It was small, densely overgrown with broom, with willow trees along the banks, rang clearly in the riffles and often overflowed into deep, dark pools.

The sun has finally risen; a horse neighed subtly in the meadows, and somehow unusually quickly everything around became brighter and pinker; The gray dew on the fir trees and bushes became even more clearly visible, and the fog began to move, thinned out and began to reluctantly reveal haystacks, dark against the smoky background of the now nearby forest. The fish were walking. Occasional heavy splashes were heard in the pools, the water was agitated, and the coastal cougar gently swayed.

Volodya was ready to start fishing right now, but Yashka walked further and further along the river bank. They were almost waist-deep in dew when Yashka finally said in a whisper: “Here!” - and began to go down to the water. He accidentally stumbled, wet clods of earth fell from under his feet, and immediately, invisible, the ducks quacked, flapped their wings, took off and stretched over the river, disappearing in the fog. Yashka cowered and hissed like a goose. Volodya licked his dry lips and jumped down after Yashka. Looking around, he was amazed at the gloom that reigned in this pool. It smelled of dampness, clay, mud, the water was black, the willows in their wild growth almost covered the entire sky, and, despite the fact that their tops were already pink from the sun, and the blue sky was visible through the fog, here, by the water, it was damp, gloomy and cold.

Do you know how deep it is here? - Yashka widened his eyes. - There’s no bottom here...

Volodya moved a little away from the water and shuddered when a fish struck loudly on the opposite shore.

Nobody bathes in this barrel...

It sucks you in... As soon as you put your legs down, that’s it... The water is like ice and pulls you down. Mishka Kayunenok said there are octopuses at the bottom.

“Octopuses are only... in the sea,” Volodya said hesitantly and moved further away.

At sea... I know it myself! And Mishka saw it! He went fishing, he walks by, looks, a probe comes out of the water, and then he fumbles along the shore... Well? The bear runs all the way to the village! Although he’s probably lying, I know him,” Yashka concluded somewhat unexpectedly and began to unwind the fishing rods.

Volodya perked up, and Yashka, having already forgotten about the octopuses, looked impatiently at the water, and every time a fish splashed noisily, his face took on a tense, suffering expression.

Having unwound the fishing rods, he handed one of them to Volodya, poured worms into a matchbox and showed him with his eyes the place where to fish.

Having thrown the nozzle, Yashka, without letting go of the rod, impatiently stared at the float. Almost immediately Volodya also threw his bait, but in doing so he caught the willow with his rod. Yashka looked at Volodya terribly, cursed in a whisper, and when he turned his gaze back to the float, he saw light diverging circles instead. Yashka immediately hooked with force, smoothly moved his hand to the right, felt with pleasure how the fish elastically entered in the depths, but the tension of the fishing line suddenly weakened, and an empty hook jumped out of the water with a smack. Yashka trembled with rage.

Gone, huh? Gone... - he whispered, putting a new worm on the hook with wet hands.

I cast the bait again and again, without letting go of the rod, I kept my eyes fixed on the float, waiting for a bite. But there was no bite, and even no splashes were heard. Yashka’s hand soon got tired, and he carefully stuck the rod into the soft bank. Volodya looked at Yashka and also stuck his rod in.

The sun, rising higher and higher, finally peered into this gloomy pool. The water immediately sparkled dazzlingly, and drops of dew lit up on the leaves, on the grass and on the flowers.

Volodya, squinting his eyes, looked at his float, then looked back and asked uncertainly:

What if the fish goes to another tank?

Of course! - Yashka answered angrily. “She lost her temper and scared everyone away.” And she was probably healthy... As soon as I pulled, my hand was immediately dragged down! Maybe it would have lifted by a kilo.

Yashka was a little ashamed that he had missed the fish, but, as often happens, he was inclined to attribute his guilt to Volodya. “I’m also a fisherman! - he thought. “He’s sitting on the rope... You fish alone or with a real fisherman, just have time to carry it...” He wanted to prick Volodya with something, but suddenly he grabbed the fishing rod: the float moved slightly. Straining, as if uprooting a tree, he slowly pulled the fishing rod out of the ground and, holding it suspended, slightly lifted it up. The float swayed again, lay on its side, stayed in that position for a bit and straightened up again. Yashka took a breath, squinted his eyes and saw Volodya, turning pale, slowly getting up. Yashka felt hot, sweat appeared in small droplets on his nose and upper lip. The float shuddered again, moved to the side, sank halfway and finally disappeared, leaving behind a barely noticeable curl of water. Yashka, like last time, gently hooked and immediately leaned forward, trying to straighten the rod. The fishing line with the float trembling on it drew a curve, Yashka stood up, grabbed the fishing rod with his other hand and, feeling strong and frequent jerks, again smoothly moved his hands to the right. Volodya jumped up to Yashka and, his desperate round eyes shining, shouted in a thin voice:

Come on, come on, come on!

Go away! - Yashka wheezed, backing away, often stepping on his feet.

For an instant, the fish burst out of the water, showed its sparkling wide side, struck tightly with its tail, raised a fountain of pink spray and again rushed into the cold depths. But Yashka, resting the butt of the rod on his stomach, kept backing away and shouting:

You're lying, you won't leave!..

Finally, he brought the struggling fish to the shore, threw it onto the grass with a jerk and immediately fell on his stomach. Volodya’s throat was dry, his heart was pounding furiously...

What do you have? - he asked, squatting down. “Show me what you have?”

Le-yet! - Yashka said enthusiastically.

He carefully pulled out a large cold bream from under his belly, turned his happy wide face to Volodya, started to laugh hoarsely, but his smile suddenly disappeared, his eyes fearfully stared at something behind Volodya’s back, he cringed and gasped:

A fishing rod... Look!

Volodya turned around and saw that his fishing rod, having fallen off a lump of earth, was slowly sliding into the water and something was strongly tugging on the line. He jumped up, stumbled and, on his knees, pulled himself up to the fishing rod and managed to grab it. The rod was severely bent. Volodya turned his round pale face to Yashka.

Hold it! - Yashka shouted.

But at that moment the ground under Volodya’s feet began to move, gave way, he lost his balance, let go of the fishing rod, absurdly, as if catching a ball, clasped his hands, shouted loudly: “Ahh...” - and fell into the water.

Fool! - Yashka shouted, contorting his face angrily and painfully. “Damn klutz!”

He jumped up, grabbed a clod of earth and grass, preparing to throw it in Volodya’s face as soon as he emerged. But, looking at the water, he froze, and he had that languid feeling that you experience in a dream: Volodya, three meters from the shore, beat, splashed on the water with his hands, threw back his white face with bulging eyes to the sky, choked and, plunging into the water , he kept trying to shout something, but his throat was bubbling and it came out: “Waah... Wah...”

“It’s drowning! - Yashka thought with horror. “It’s pulling me in!” He threw a lump of earth and, wiping his sticky hand on his pants, feeling weak in his legs, backed up, away from the water. Mishka’s story about huge octopuses at the bottom of the barrel immediately came to mind, his chest and stomach became cold with horror: he realized that Volodya had been grabbed by an octopus... The earth crumbled from under his feet, he resisted with shaking hands and, just like in a dream , clumsily and heavily climbed up.

Finally, urged on by the terrible sounds that Volodya made, Yashka jumped out into the meadow and rushed towards the village, but, without running even ten steps, he stopped, as if he had stumbled, feeling that there was no way to escape. There was no one nearby, and there was no one to shout for help... Yashka frantically rummaged in his pockets and bag in search of at least some kind of string and, finding nothing, pale, began to creep up to the barrel. Approaching the cliff, he looked down, expecting to see something terrible and at the same time hoping that everything would somehow work out, and again he saw Volodya. Volodya was no longer struggling; he had almost completely disappeared under the water, only the top of his head with his hair sticking out was still visible. She hid and showed up again, hid and showed up... Yashka, without taking his eyes off the top of his head, began to unbutton his pants, then screamed and rolled down. Having freed himself from his pants, he, as he was, in his shirt, with a bag over his shoulder, jumped into the water, swam up to Volodya in two strokes, and grabbed his hand.

Volodya immediately grabbed onto Yashka, quickly, quickly began to move his hands, clinging to his shirt and bag, leaning on him and, as before, squeezing out inhumanly terrible sounds: “Waa... Whaa...” Water poured into Yashka’s mouth. Feeling a death grip on his neck, he tried to put his face out of the water, but Volodya, trembling, kept climbing on him, leaning on him with all his weight, trying to climb onto his shoulders. Yashka choked, coughed, choking, swallowing water, and then horror seized him, red and yellow circles flashed in his eyes with blinding force. He realized that Volodya would drown him, that his death had come, he jerked with all his strength, floundered, screamed as inhumanly as Volodya had screamed a minute ago, kicked him in the stomach, emerged, and saw through the water running from his hair a bright flattened ball of the sun , still feeling Volodya’s weight on himself, he tore him off, threw him off of him, thrashed him through the water with his hands and feet and, raising breakers of foam, rushed to the shore in horror.

And only when he grabbed the coastal sedge with his hand, he came to his senses and looked back. The troubled water in the pool calmed down, and no one was on its surface anymore. Several air bubbles cheerfully jumped out of the depths, and Yashka’s teeth began to chatter. He looked around: the sun was shining brightly, and the leaves of the bushes and willows were shining, the cobwebs between the flowers were glowing rainbow-colored, and the wagtail was sitting above, on a log, swinging its tail and looking at Yashka with a shining eye, and everything was the same as always, everything was breathing peace. and silence, and there was a quiet morning above the earth, and yet just now, very recently, a terrible thing happened - a man had just drowned, and it was he, Yashka, who hit and drowned him.

Yashka blinked, let go of the sedge, moved his shoulders under his wet shirt, took a deep breath of air intermittently and dived. Opening his eyes under water, at first he could not make out anything: vague yellowish and greenish reflections and some grass illuminated by the sun were trembling all around. But the light of the sun did not penetrate there, into the depths... Yashka sank even lower, swam a little, touching the grass with his hands and face, and then he saw Volodya. Volodya kept on his side, one of his legs was tangled in the grass, and he himself slowly turned, swaying, exposing his round pale face to the sunlight and moving his left hand, as if testing the water by touch. It seemed to Yashka that Volodya was pretending and deliberately shaking his hand, that he was watching him in order to grab him as soon as he touched him.

Feeling that he was about to suffocate, Yashka rushed to Volodya, grabbed his hand, closed his eyes, hastily pulled Volodya’s body up and was surprised at how easily and obediently it followed him. Having emerged, he breathed greedily, and now he didn’t need or care about anything except to breathe and feel how his chest was filled with clean and sweet air over and over again.

Without letting go of Volodya's shirt, he began to push him towards the shore. It was hard to swim. Feeling the bottom under his feet, Yashka climbed out himself and pulled Volodya out. He shuddered, touching the cold body, looking at the dead, motionless face, was in a hurry and felt so tired, so unhappy...

Turning Volodya onto his back, he began to spread his arms, press on his stomach, and blow into his nose. He was out of breath and weak, and Volodya was still the same white and cold. “He’s dead,” Yashka thought with fear, and he became very scared. I wish I could run away somewhere, hide, just so as not to see this indifferent, cold face!

Yashka sobbed in horror, jumped up, grabbed Volodya by the legs, pulled him up as far as he could and, turning purple from the strain, began to shake him. Volodya’s head was beating on the ground, his hair was matted with dirt. - And at that very moment when Yashka, completely exhausted and discouraged, wanted to give up everything and run wherever his eyes looked - at that very moment water gushed from Volodya’s mouth, he groaned and a spasm passed through his body. Yashka released Volodin’s legs, closed his eyes and sat down on the ground.

Volodya leaned on his weak hands and stood up, as if he was about to run somewhere, but he fell down again, started coughing convulsively again, splashing water and writhing on the damp grass. Yashka crawled to the side and looked at Volodya relaxed. Now he loved no one more than Volodya, nothing in the world was dearer to him than that pale, frightened and suffering face. A timid, loving smile shone in Yashka’s eyes; he looked at Volodya with tenderness and asked senselessly:

So how? A? Well, how?..

Volodya recovered a little, wiped his face with his hand, looked at the water and in an unfamiliar, hoarse voice, with noticeable effort, stuttering:

How did I... then...

Then Yashka suddenly wrinkled his face, closed his eyes, tears flowed from his eyes, and he roared, roared bitterly, inconsolably, shaking with his whole body, choking and ashamed of his tears. He cried from joy, from the fear he experienced, from the fact that everything ended well, that Mishka Kayunenok lied and there were no octopuses in this barrel.

Volodya’s eyes darkened, his mouth opened slightly, and he looked at Yashka with fear and bewilderment.

You... what? - he squeezed out.

Yes... - Yashka said as hard as he could, trying not to cry and wiping his eyes with his pants.

And he roared even more desperately and louder. Volodya blinked, grimaced, looked again at the water, and his heart trembled, he remembered everything...

Ka... how am I drowning!.. - as if in surprise, he said and also began to cry, twitching his thin shoulders, helplessly lowering his head and turning away from his savior.

The water in the pool had long since calmed down, the fish fell from Volodya’s fishing rod, and the fishing rod washed ashore. The sun was shining, the bushes were blazing, sprinkled with dew, and only the water in the pool remained the same black.

The air heated up, and the horizon trembled in its warm currents. From afar, from the fields on the other side of the river, the smells of hay and sweet clover flew along with the gusts of wind. And these smells, mixing with the more distant but pungent smells of the forest, and this light warm wind were like the breath of an awakened earth, rejoicing in a new bright day.

This is a very simply written story about how one boy saved another when he was drowning, while almost going to the bottom himself. Two boys went fishing. While they were sitting with fishing rods, they managed to discuss fishing, as well as the village legend that scary octopuses live at the bottom of the reservoir and drag people under the water. One of the boys awkwardly reached for the fishing line and fell. The second, seeing his friend drowning, first ran for help. But, on the way, realizing that he would not have time to call anyone, he returned, threw himself into the water and saved his friend. After that, the boys sat and cried, rejoicing that they were alive. And around them a quiet summer morning was flaring up.

This work tells about the moment of a person growing up. Two boys, coming face to face with death for the first time, realized that it was much worse than the fables about octopuses. When everything was over, they looked at the nature around them and realized how beautiful everything that they had almost lost was.

A village boy named Yashka woke up early in the morning to go fishing. The day before, a city boy named Volodya asked to go fishing with him. He came from Moscow and was visiting relatives. Yashka himself didn’t know why he agreed to take him.

Read the summary of Kazakov's Quiet Morning

Early in the morning, even before the roosters woke up, the village boy Yashka woke up to go fishing. He carefully got ready: put on old pants and a shirt, had breakfast, dug up worms, and prepared fishing rods.

Going out into the street, he saw that everything around was hidden by thick fog, nothing was visible. Yashka ran down the path to the hayloft where his new acquaintance Volodya was spending the night. Volodya came to the collective farm on vacation from Moscow. Yashka called his comrade with a whistle, but he was still sleeping and did not respond. Then he called him by name, and Volodya came out. The boy was sleepy and all rumpled. Yashka was angry with him for not getting up early and was not grateful to Yashka for taking him fishing with him.

All the way Volodya suffers greatly from the fact that he does not look like the confident Yashka. Along the way, the boys stop to drink water from an old well.

The guys come to a whirlpool, which amazes with its gloom. Yashka scares Volodya that there is no bottom here, and no one swims in this barrel. A city boy becomes uncomfortable with the village kids' stories about octopuses supposedly living at the bottom of this reservoir.

The boys start fishing. Yashka professionally casts his fishing rod and watches with irritation as Volodya clings to the willow with his rod. At this time, Yashka’s fish begins to bite, but breaks away. His anger knows no bounds. Later, he still managed to pull out the bream. But at this time Volodya begins to bite, and he, trying to catch the fishing rod, falls into the pool. He starts to drown.

Yashka, in a panic, is about to run for help, but understands that this cannot be done, otherwise Volodya will die in the meantime. He rushes into the pool to save his comrade. Volodya grabs Yashka with a death grip, and the boys almost drown together. Yashka fights off Volodya, swims ashore, but realizes that he cannot leave the boy to drown. He returns for him, but Volodya no longer appears on the surface. Yashka dives, finds the boy and drags him unconscious to the shore. Volodya comes to his senses, but cannot say anything except for isolated sounds and gurgling. Yasha, looking at his comrade, feels boundless tenderness for him. He is happy that he saved his friend. But at the same moment the boys realize what could have happened. Yashka and Volodya cry together from the shock they have experienced.

The water in the pool calms down, the fish gets off the hook and swims away. The warm sun rose, illuminating everything around. And only the water in the barrel was still gloomy.

Picture or drawing Quiet morning

Volodya and Yashka

The story begins with a description of one of the main characters - Yashka. He lived in with his mother. That morning the boy woke up early because he had something to do. He drank milk and bread, took a fishing rod and went to dig for worms. A quiet morning awaited him outside. The summary takes the reader to the pre-dawn hour of the village. At this time, almost everyone in that village was still sleeping. Only the tapping of a hammer in the forge could be heard. Yashka dug up some worms and went to the barn. His new comrade, Muscovite Volodya, slept here.

The day before, he himself came to Yashka and asked to take him fishing. It was decided to leave early in the morning. That's what the guys did. The village guy made fun of the city guy, because he went in boots, while the local guys only ran barefoot in the summer.

Fishing

This is how the story “Quiet Morning” begins. The summary takes the plot to the shore of the pond. This is where the main events will unfold. Yashka baited the worm, threw out the fishing rod and almost immediately felt someone grab it tightly at the other end. It was a fish. But her boy couldn’t hook it and missed it. The second prey failed to escape. The teenager caught a large bream and barely pulled it ashore. At this time, Volodya’s fishing rod began to dance. He rushed towards her, but stumbled and fell into the water.

Yashka wanted to scold his new friend for such awkwardness and even took a lump of earth to throw at him later. But that wasn't necessary. A boy from Moscow was desperately floundering on the surface of the pond. Yashka realized that he was drowning. This is the tense plot that Yu.P. came up with. Kazakov. A quiet morning, which did not foreshadow any trouble, almost turned into a serious tragedy.

The rescue

Yashka did not immediately understand what to do. He rushed forward to call someone for help. After running a little, he realized that there was no one nearby, and he would have to save his comrade himself. But the guy was afraid to get into the water, because one of his village friends claimed that he saw a real octopus in the water, which could easily drag a person into the abyss. In addition, the pond could suck anyone into its waters. This is the plot of the story “Quiet Morning”. The summary continues the story.

There was nothing to do. Quickly taking off his pants, Yashka dived. He swam to Volodya, grabbed him and tried to pull him ashore. However, drowning people often behave inappropriately. The Muscovite did the same. Without realizing it, in a fit of fear he began to climb on top of his savior. Yashka felt that he himself began to choke and drown. Then he kicked Vova in the stomach and swam to the shore. The boy caught his breath and looked around. He no longer saw anyone on the surface of the water.

Then the guy rushed into the water again, dived and saw his friend under water. Yasha grabbed him by the hand and with great effort pulled him ashore. He began to bring Volodya to his senses. Not right away, but he succeeded.

This is the summary of Kazakov’s “Quiet Morning” - a story about courage and friendship.

Yuri Kazakov

Quiet morning

The sleepy roosters had just crowed, it was still dark in the hut, the mother had not milked the cow and the shepherd had not driven the flock out into the meadows, when Yashka woke up. He sat up in bed and stared for a long time at the bluish sweaty windows, at the dimly whitening stove...

The pre-dawn sleep is sweet, and his head falls on the pillow, and his eyes are stuck together, but Yashka overcame himself, stumbling, clinging to benches and chairs, and began to wander around the hut, looking for old pants and a shirt.

After eating milk and bread, Yashka took fishing rods in the entryway and went out onto the porch. The village is covered with fog, like a big duvet. The nearby houses are still visible, the distant ones are barely visible as dark spots, and even further, towards the river, nothing is visible, and it seems that there has never been a windmill on the hill, or a fire tower, or a school, or a forest on the horizon. .. Everything disappeared, disappeared now, and the center of the small visible world turned out to be Yashkin’s hut.

Someone woke up earlier than Yashka and is knocking with a hammer near the forge. Clear metallic sounds, breaking through the fog, reach a large barn and echo weakly from there. It seems like two people are knocking: one is louder, the other is quieter.

Yashka jumped off the porch, swung his fishing rods at the rooster, who had just begun his song, and trotted cheerfully towards the barn. At the barn, he pulled out a rusty mower from under the board and began digging the ground. Almost immediately, red and purple cold worms began to appear. Thick and thin, they sank equally quickly into the loose soil, but Yashka still managed to grab them and soon filled up an almost full jar. Having sprinkled fresh earth on the worms, he ran down the path, tumbled over the fence and made his way backwards to the barn, where his new friend Volodya was sleeping in the hayloft.

Yashka put his soil-stained fingers in his mouth and whistled. Then he spat and listened.

Volodka! - he called. - Get up!

Volodya stirred in the hay, fidgeted and rustled there for a long time, and finally awkwardly climbed down, stepping on untied shoelaces. His face, wrinkled after sleep, was meaningless, like that of a blind man, there was hay dust in his hair, and it probably got into his shirt, because, standing downstairs next to Yashka, he kept moving his shoulders and scratching his back.

Isn't it early? - he asked hoarsely, yawned and, swaying, grabbed the stairs with his hand.

Yashka got angry: he got up a whole hour earlier, dug up worms, brought fishing rods... And if, to tell the truth, he got up today because of this runt, he wanted to show him the fishing spots - and instead of gratitude, “early "!

For some it’s too early, and for some it’s not too early! - he answered angrily and looked Volodya from head to toe with disdain.

Volodya looked out into the street, his face became animated, his eyes sparkled, and he began hastily lacing up his shoe. But for Yashka, all the charm of the morning was already poisoned.

Are you going to wear boots? - he asked contemptuously and looked at the protruding toe of his bare foot. - Will you wear galoshes?

Volodya remained silent, blushed and began working on the other shoe.

Well, yes... - Yashka continued melancholy, putting the fishing rods against the wall. - You probably don’t go barefoot there in Moscow...

So what? - Volodya left his shoe and looked down into Yashka’s wide, mockingly angry face.

Nothing... Run home and grab your coat.

If I have to, I'll run! - Volodya answered through clenched teeth and blushed even more.

Yashka got bored. It was in vain that he got involved in this whole matter... Why should Kolka and Zhenka Voronkovs be fishermen, and they even admit that there is no better fisherman in the village than him. Just take me to the place and show me - they’ll cover you with apples! And this one... came yesterday, polite... “Please, please”... Should I hit him in the neck, or what?

“And put on a tie,” Yashka said sarcastically and laughed hoarsely.

Our fish get offended when you approach them without a tie.

Volodya finally managed to get his boots off and left the barn, his nostrils twitching with resentment. Yashka reluctantly followed him, and the guys silently, without looking at each other, walked down the street. They walked through the village, and the fog retreated before them, revealing more and more huts and barns, and a school, and long rows of milky-white farm buildings... Like a stingy owner, the fog showed all this only for a minute, then closed tightly again behind.

Volodya suffered severely. He was angry with himself for his rude answers to Yashka; at that moment he seemed awkward and pitiful to himself. He was ashamed of his awkwardness, and in order to somehow drown out this unpleasant feeling, he thought, becoming embittered. “Okay, let him... Let him mock me, he will still recognize me, I won’t let him laugh! Just think, it’s important to go barefoot!” But at the same time, he looked with open envy, even admiration, at Yashka’s bare feet and at the canvas fish bag, and at the patched trousers and gray shirt worn especially for fishing. He envied Yashka’s tan and that special gait, in which his shoulders and shoulder blades, and even his ears move, and which many village children consider to be especially chic.

We passed by a well with an old log house overgrown with greenery.

Stop! - Yashka said gloomily. - Let's have a drink!

He went up to the well, rattled his chain, pulled out a heavy tub of water, and greedily leaned into it. He didn’t want to drink, but he believed that there was nowhere better than this water, and therefore every time he passed by the well, he drank it with great pleasure. The water overflowed and splashed on his bare feet, he tucked them in, but he kept drinking and drinking, occasionally breaking away and breathing noisily.

Come on, drink! - he finally said to Volodya, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

Volodya didn’t feel like drinking either, but in order not to completely anger Yashka, he obediently fell down to the tub and began to take small sips of water until the back of his head ached from the cold.

Well, how's the water? - Yashka inquired proudly when Volodya walked away from the well.

Legitimate! - Volodya responded and shivered.

Perhaps there isn’t one like this in Moscow? - Yashka squinted venomously.

Volodya didn’t answer, he just sucked in air through clenched teeth and smiled reconcilingly.

Have you caught fish? - asked Yashka.

No... Only on the Moscow River I saw how they were caught,” Volodya answered in a fallen voice and timidly looked at Yashka.

This confession softened Yashka somewhat, and he, touching the can of worms, said casually:

Yesterday our manager of the club in the Pleshansky Bochag saw catfish...

Volodya's eyes sparkled. Immediately forgetting about his dislike for Yashka, he quickly asked:

Big?

What did you think? Two meters... Or maybe all three - you can’t make it out in the dark. Our club manager was already scared, he thought it was a crocodile. Do not believe?

You're lying! - Volodya exhaled enthusiastically and shrugged his shoulders. But it was clear from his eyes that he believed everything unconditionally.

I'm lying? - Yashka was amazed. - Do you want to go fishing in the evening? Well?

Can i? - Volodya asked hopefully; his ears turned pink.

And what! - Yashka spat and wiped his nose with his sleeve. - I have the tackle. We'll catch frogs and loaches... We'll capture the crawlies - there are still chubs there - and it'll be two dawns! We'll light a fire at night... Will you go?

Volodya felt incredibly cheerful, and now he just felt how good it was to leave the house in the morning. How nice and easy it is to breathe, how you want to run along this soft road, rush at full speed, jumping and squealing with delight.

What was that chattering so loudly in the field? Motorbike?

Volodya looked questioningly at Yashka.

Tractor! - Yashka said importantly.

Tractor? But why does it crack?

This is what starts him up. It will start now. Listen... Whoa... Did you hear? Buzzed! Well, now it goes! This is Fedya Kostylev - he plowed all night with headlights... I slept a little, then went again.

Volodya looked in the direction from which the roar of the tractor was heard, and immediately asked:

Are your fogs always like this?

Not... When it's clean. And when it’s later, closer to September, you’ll see it hit with frost. In general, the fish takes it in the fog - have time to carry it!

What kind of fish do you have?

Fish? All kinds of fish. And there are crucian carp on the reaches, pike... Well, then these - perch, carp, bream... Also tench - do you know tench? - like a pig. That's fat! The first time I caught it, my mouth was agape.

How many can you catch?

Anything can happen. Another time about five kilos, and another time only... for a cat.

What's that whistle? - Volodya stopped and raised his head.

This? These are ducks flying.

Yeah... I know... What is this?

The blackbirds are ringing. They flew to Aunt Nastya's garden on a rowan tree. Have you caught blackbirds?

Never caught one.

Mishka Kayunenka has a net, just wait, let's go catch them. They are thirsty blackbirds... They fly across the fields in flocks, taking worms from under the tractor. Stretch the net, throw in rowan berries, hide and wait. As soon as they swoop in, about five of them will immediately crawl under the net. They are funny; not all are true, but there are some good ones. One of them lived with me all winter, and he could do everything: like a locomotive, and like a saw...

The village was left behind. The low-growing oats stretched endlessly. A dark strip of forest was barely visible ahead.

How much longer to go? - asked Volodya.

No... It’s nearby,” Yashka answered every time.

They came out onto a hillock, turned right, went down a ravine, followed a path through a flax field, and then quite unexpectedly a river opened up in front of them. It was small, densely overgrown with willow and broom along the banks.

The sun has finally risen; neighed subtly...