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Cossacks quiet morning year of writing. Kazakov, analysis of the work quiet morning, plan

Yuri Pavlovich Kazakov is a prose writer from whose pen not a single remarkable work has come out. A writer of the second half of the twentieth century, who could show typical things from a completely different angle. He was good at conveying to the reader main idea their works, which are read easily and with interest. For example, today we were lucky to get acquainted with one of Kazakov's stories "Quiet Morning".

Quiet morning Cossacks summary

The story "Quiet Morning" tells us about two boys who went fishing early in the morning. A terrible thing happened there. The boy Volodya from the city, who came to his friend Yashka in the village, fell into the river. Seeing this incident, Yashka first ran away from the fishing place, as he was very scared. But, already in the meadow, he realized that he was the only hope for saving a friend, because there was not a soul nearby. Having overcome all his fears, fear for himself and his life, fear for the life of a friend, he jumped to a friend who was already under water and saved Volodya by giving him first aid. After, the boys sobbed for a long time, but they were tears of joy from a successful ending.

Here in the story intertwined different situations. Here and boasting, and resentment, and a quarrel, the problems of duty, conscience, and love for one's neighbor are affected. All events take place against the backdrop of nature, which was calm. Even when one of the heroes was drowning, nature remained still calm, the sun rose and began to shine brightly, everything around breathed peace and quiet, “there was a quiet morning and meanwhile, just now, quite recently, a terrible thing happened. Here, “Quiet Morning” is contrasted with the events that took place in the story, and this was done in order to convey as vividly as possible the horror that the boys experienced.

Kazakov Silent morning heroes

In Kazakov's story "Quiet Morning" the main characters are two boys. Volodya is a resident from Moscow who went fishing in boots. He did not know anything about fishing, as well as about rural life, so everything was interesting for him.

Yashka is a typical villager who knows everything and who is like a fish in water. He likes to taunt Volodya, to play a joke, while he told a lot of stories about the life of rural children. Yashka is a connoisseur of fishing, one of the best, who managed to show heroism and did not leave Volodya.

The heroes of the story “Quiet Morning” by Kazakov, by their example, teach us never and under no circumstances to leave our friends in trouble no matter what.

Plan

The plan of the story "Quiet Morning" by Kazakov will allow you to quickly recall the plot and the events taking place.
1. Yashka is getting ready for early fishing
2. Yashka wakes up Volodya
3. The boys go fishing
4. Stories on the way to the river
5. Terrible case: Volodka is drowning
6. Yashka saves a friend
7. Happy ending.

Kazakov Yu.P.
Quiet morning

In the early morning, when it was still dark in the hut, and his mother was not milking the cow, Yashka got up, found his old trousers and shirt, ate bread and milk, and, taking fishing rods, left the hut. He dug up worms and ran to the barn, where his friend Volodya was sleeping in the hayloft.

- Isn't it too early? - he asked hoarsely awake.

Yashka got angry: he got up an hour earlier, dug up worms, wanted to show this polite Muscovite the most fishy places. Yashka is the best fisherman on the entire collective farm, just show me where to fish, and they will throw apples. And this - for "please", and he is not satisfied yet. Go fishing in boots!

- You should still wear a tie! - Yashka quipped and laughed hoarsely. - We have a fish offended when you poke your nose at her without a tie.

However, Yashka is not evil, he boasts of the best that is in his native village: the most delicious well water in the world, catching thrushes with a net, a two-meter catfish, which the head of the club saw in the bocha - he thought it was a crocodile ... Yashka tells about Fedya the tractor driver, who worked at night by the headlights, woke up - and again in the field.

Volodya suddenly begins to feel how nice it is to wake up early and leave the house, or even better, run, squealing with delight.

Yashka led the Moscow guest to a bochagu (pool) and began to tell that this pool sucks everyone in - such icy water there, does not let go. And at the bottom - octopuses.

“Octopuses are only... in the sea,” Volodya said uncertainly.

- And Mishka saw it! ... A probe is out of the water, and it’s fumbling along the shore ... Although, he’s probably lying, I know him, ”Yashka concluded somewhat unexpectedly.

The rods were abandoned. Yashka pecked - but broke. They waited and waited for a bite, they got tired - they stuck the fishing rods into the ground. Here again pecked. Yashka pulled out a healthy bream. And Volodin's fishing rod, together with a clod of earth, crawled into the water. The boy tried to save her, and fell into the pool. Yashka got angry with him, and suddenly saw that his friend was drowning. He fought, choked and made terrible sounds: “Wah-ah-ah ... Wah-ah-ah ...” The thought of octopuses flashed through the head of the village boy. He rushed up to call for help, but no one was there.

When Yashka returned, only the top of Volodin's head was visible on the surface of the water. Yashka jumped into the water, grabbed Volodya, but he clung to him so desperately and strongly, he began to climb so wildly on his shoulders that he almost drowned. Yashka pulled the drowning man away from him, kicked him in the stomach and rushed to the shore. He looked at the water - bubbles were rising on its surface. Yashka thought that he had drowned his comrade, and dived. He found Volodya entangled in the grass at the bottom. He pulled him ashore, began to do artificial respiration, shake his head upside down. Finally, water gushed out of the mouth of the drowned man and he came to his senses.

Both boys burst into tears.

- How I'm drowning-oo-l!

“Yes-ah ...” Yashka said ... “you drown-oh ... drown ... and I spa-a ... save-a-at ...

“The sun was shining, the bushes were blazing, splashed with dew, and only the water in the pool remained the same black ...”

Yuri Kazakov

Quiet morning

Sleepy roosters had just crowed, it was still dark in the hut, the mother did not milk the cow and the shepherd did not drive the herd into the meadows when Yashka woke up.

He sat up in bed, staring for a long time at the bluish, sweaty windows, at the dimly whitening stove. The predawn dream is sweet, and the head falls on the pillow, the eyes stick together, but Yashka overcame himself, stumbling, clinging to benches and chairs, began to wander around the hut, looking for old pants and a shirt.

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

Someone woke up before Yashka, knocked near the forge with a hammer; and pure metallic sounds, breaking through the veil of fog, reached a large invisible barn and returned from there already weakened. There seemed to be two knockers, one louder, the other quieter.

Yashka jumped off the porch, swung his fishing rods at a rooster that turned up under his feet and trotted merrily to the barn. At the barn, he pulled a rusty mower from under the plank and began to dig the ground. Almost immediately, red and purple cold worms began to come across. Thick and thin, they equally quickly went into the loose earth, but Yashka still managed to grab them and soon threw in an almost full jar. Sprinkling some fresh earth on the worms, he ran down the path, climbed over the wattle fence, and made his way back to the shed, where his new friend, Volodya, was sleeping in the hayloft.

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

Volodya! he called. “Get up!”

Volodya stirred in the hay, fussed and rustled there for a long time, finally awkwardly tears down, stepping on his untied shoelaces. His face, crumpled after sleep, was senseless and motionless, like a blind man's, hay dust was stuffed into his hair, but it apparently got into his shirt, because, standing already below, next to Yashka, he kept pulling his thin neck, shrugged his shoulders and scratched his back.

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

Yashka got angry: he got up a whole hour earlier, dug up worms, dragged fishing rods ... and to tell the truth, he got up today because of this scumbag, he wanted to show him the fish places - and instead of gratitude and admiration -- "early!"

For whom it is early, and for whom it is not early! he answered angrily and looked Volodya up and down with disdain.

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

Are you wearing boots? he asked contemptuously, and looked at the protruding toe of his bare foot.

Volodya said nothing, blushed, and set to work on another boot.

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

So what? Volodya looked down into Yashka's broad, mockingly angry face.

Nothing... Run home, take your coat...

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

Yashka is bored. In vain he got involved with the whole thing. Why Kolka and Zhenya Voronkovs are fishermen, and even they admit that there is no fisherman better than him on the entire collective farm. Just take me to the place and show me - they will fall asleep with apples! And this one... came yesterday, polite... "Please, please..." Hit him in the neck, or what? It was necessary to get in touch with this Muscovite, who, probably, has never seen a fish in his eyes, goes fishing in boots! ..

And you put on a tie, - Yashka quipped and laughed hoarsely. - Our fish are offended when you poke around without a tie.

Volodya finally finished with his boots and, trembling with resentment with his nostrils, looking straight ahead with an unseeing gaze, went out of 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 sheds, and a school, and long rows of milky-white farm buildings ... Like a miserly owner, he showed all this only for a minute and then again tightly tucked up behind.

Volodya suffered severely. He was not angry with himself for his rude replies to Yashka, he was angry with Yashka, and at that moment he felt awkward and pitiful to himself. He was ashamed of his awkwardness, and in order to somehow drown out this unpleasant feeling, he thought, hardened: What imaginings!" But at the same time, with frank envy and even admiration, he looked at Yashka's bare feet, and at the canvas bag for fish, and at the patched trousers and gray shirt worn especially for fishing. He envied Yashkin's tan and his gait, in which his shoulders and shoulder blades move, and even his ears, and which many village children consider to be a special chic.

We passed by a well with an old frame overgrown with greenery.

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

He went to the well, rattled his chain, pulled out a heavy bucket of water and greedily clung to it. He did not want to drink, but he believed that there was nowhere better than this water, and therefore, every time, passing by the well, he drank it with great pleasure. Water, pouring over the edge of the tub, splashed on his bare feet, he pressed them, but he drank and drank, occasionally breaking away and breathing noisily.

Here, drink,” he said at last to Volodya, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

Volodya didn’t want to drink either, but in order not to irritate Yashka even more, he obediently leaned on the tub and began to draw water in small sips until his neck ached from the cold.

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

Legal! Volodya responded and shivered.

I suppose there is no such thing in Moscow? Yashka squinted venomously.

Volodya did not answer, he only drew air through clenched teeth and smiled reconcilingly.

Did you catch fish? asked Yashka.

No ... Only on the Moskva River I saw how they were fishing, - Volodya confessed in a low voice and timidly looked at Yashka.

This confession somewhat softened Yashka, and, feeling the jar of worms, he said, as if by the way:

Yesterday, our head of the club in the Pleshansk Bochaga saw a catfish ....

Volodya's eyes sparkled.

Big?

And you thought! Two meters ... Or maybe all three - it was impossible to make out in the dark. Our club manager was already frightened, he thought he 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 tonight! Well?

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

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

Volodya became unusually 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 up and squealing with delight!

What is that strange tinkle back there? Who is this suddenly, as if striking over and over again on a tense tight string, shouted 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 is it crackling so loudly in the field? Motorcycle? - Volodya looked inquiringly at Yashka.

Yuri Kazakov

Quiet morning

Sleepy roosters had just crowed, it was still dark in the hut, the mother did not milk the cow and the shepherd did not drive the herd into the meadows when Yashka woke up. He sat up in bed, staring for a long time at the bluish sweaty windows, at the vaguely whitening stove...

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

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

Someone woke up before Yashka, knocking near the forge with a hammer. Pure metallic sounds, breaking through the fog, reach a large barn, echoing faintly from there. It seems that two knock: one is louder, the other is quieter.

Yashka jumped off the porch, swung his fishing rods at the rooster, which had just begun its song, merrily trotted to the barn. At the barn, he pulled out a rusty mower from under the board, began to dig the ground. Almost immediately, red and purple cold worms began to come across. Thick and thin, they equally quickly went into the loose earth, but Yashka still managed to grab them and soon threw in an almost full jar. Sprinkling some fresh earth on the worms, he ran down the path, climbed over the wattle fence, and made his way back to the barn, where his new friend, Volodya, was sleeping in the hayloft.

Yashka put his soiled fingers in his mouth and whistled. Then he spat and listened.

Volodya! he called. - Get up!

Volodya stirred in the hay, fumbled and rustled there for a long time, and finally, awkwardly tears, stepping on his untied shoelaces. His face, wrinkled after sleep, was meaningless, like a blind man's, hay dust was crammed into his hair, but it probably got into his shirt, because, standing already below, next to Yashka, he kept shrugging his shoulders and scratching his back.

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

Yashka got angry: he got up a whole hour earlier, dug up worms, dragged fishing rods ... And if, to tell the truth, then he got up today because of this scumbag, he wanted to show him the fish places - and instead of gratitude, “it’s early "!

For whom it is early, and for whom it is not early! - he answered angrily and with disdain examined Volodya from head to toe.

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

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

Volodya said nothing, blushed, and set to work on another boot.

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

So what? - Volodya left the shoe and looked down into the wide, mockingly angry face of Yashka.

Nothing... Run home, take your coat.

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

Yashka is bored. In vain he got involved with this whole affair ... Why Kolka and Zhenya Voronkovs are fishermen, and even they admit that there is no better fisherman in the village than him. Just take me to the place and show me - they will fall asleep with apples! And this one ... came yesterday, polite ... "Please, please" ... Hit him in the neck, or what?

And you put on a tie, - Yashka quipped and laughed hoarsely.

We have a fish offended when you poke your nose at her without a tie.

Volodya finally managed to put on his boots and left the barn, his nostrils trembling 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 receded before them, revealing more and more huts and sheds, and a school, and long rows of milk-white farm buildings ... Like a miserly owner, the fog showed all this only for a minute, then closed again tightly behind.

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

We passed by a well with an old frame overgrown with greenery.

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

He went to the well, rattled his chain, pulled out a heavy bucket of water, greedily clung to it. He did not want to drink, but he believed that there was nowhere better than this water, and therefore, every time, passing by the well, he drank it with great pleasure. Water overflowed, splashed on his bare feet, he pressed them, but he drank and drank, occasionally breaking away and breathing noisily.

Come on, drink! he said at last to Volodya, wiping his lips with his sleeve.

Volodya did not want to drink either, but in order not to completely irritate Yashka, he obediently crouched down on the tub and began to draw water in small sips until his neck ached from the cold.

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

Legal! - Volodya responded and shivered.

I suppose there is no such thing in Moscow? Yashka squinted venomously.

Volodya did not answer, he only drew air through clenched teeth and smiled reconcilingly.

Did you catch fish? asked Yashka.

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

This confession somewhat softened Yashka, and, feeling the jar of worms, he said, as if by the way:

Yesterday our head of the club in the Pleshansk Bochaga saw a catfish ...

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

Big?

And you thought! Two meters ... Or maybe all three - you can't make out in the dark. Our club manager was already frightened, he thought - 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 gear. We’ll catch frogs, we’ll catch vines ... we’ll capture creeps - there are still chubs there - and for two dawns! We'll light a fire at night... Will you go?

Volodya became unusually cheerful, and now he only 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, bouncing and squealing with delight.

What is it that chirped so loudly in the field? Motorbike?

Volodya looked inquiringly at Yashka.

Tractor! - Yashka said importantly.

Tractor? But why is he cracking?

This is what he starts. Now it will start. Listen... In-in... Heard? Buzzed! Well, now go! This is Fedya Kostylev - he plowed all night with headlights ... He slept a little, then went again.

Volodya looked in the direction from where the rumble of the tractor was heard, and immediately asked:

Are fogs always like this?

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

What kind of fish do you have?

Is it a fish? Any fish. And there are crucian carp on the stretches, pike ... Well, then these - perch, roach, bream ... Another tench - you know the tench? - like a pig. That's fat! The first time I caught it myself - my mouth was open.

How many can be caught?

Anything happens. Another time it was five kilos, and another time it was only ... for a cat.

What is it whistling? - Volodya stopped, raised his head.

This? These ducks are flying.

Yeah... I know... What's this?

Thrushes are calling. They flew to the mountain ash to Aunt Nastya in the garden. Did you catch thrushes?

Never caught.

Mishka Kayunenko has a net, wait a minute, let's go to catch They, thrushes, thirsty ... They fly in flocks across the fields, take worms from under the tractor. You stretch the net, sketch the mountain ash, hide and wait. As soon as they fly in, five pieces will immediately climb under the net. They are funny; Not everything is true, but there are sensible ones. I had one who lived all winter, so he knew how to do everything: both as a steam locomotive and as a saw ...

Yashka woke up when the sleepy roosters had just crowed, it was dark, the mother did not milk the cow and the shepherd did not drive the herd into the meadows.

After eating milk and bread, the boy took the fishing rods and went to the porch. The village was still asleep.

Having dug up a full jar, he rolled over the wattle fence and ran along the path to the barn, where his new friend Volodya was sleeping in the hayloft.

Yashka whistled, then listened. It was quiet. Yashka called Volodya again. He fiddled and rustled there for a long time, then awkwardly tears, while asking a friend - is it too early?

Yashka got angry: he got up an hour ago, dug up worms, dragged fishing rods. He, in fact, started everything because of Volodya, wanted to show him the fishing spots, but instead of gratitude and admiration, he heard the word “early”.

For Yashka, all the beauty of the morning was poisoned. He caustically “walked” over the fact that Volodya went fishing in boots, and looked at his bare feet.

He was still a little angry at the polite Moscow sissy and was no longer glad that he had contacted him.

Volodya was already ready to give up fishing, but he was so looking forward to this morning. Yashka followed him reluctantly. They walked along the village, and the fog opened before them more and more new buildings.

Volodya suffered severely, felt embarrassed, angry because he answered Yashka awkwardly. He told himself that it was not important to go barefoot, but at the same time he looked with envy and admiration at Yashka's bare feet, at a canvas bag for fish and specially prepared for fishing clothes. He envied both Yashkin's tan and his special walk.

The guys passed by the well, and Yashka stopped, offering his friend a drink, because he considered the local water to be the best water that is nowhere to be found. Volodya did not want to drink, but in order not to irritate Yashka, he began to drink in small sips. Then, when Yashka asked if the water was good, he answered that it was good. Yashka did not fail to hurt his friend, saying that there is no such water in Moscow. I asked a friend if he was fishing in the city. Volodya replied that he had only seen how they were fishing on the Moscow River.

Yashka relented and started talking about fish and fishing. Volodya believed everything said by his friend unconditionally.

The village was left behind, a stunted oat was stretched out, a dark strip of forest was barely visible ahead.

Volodya asked how long it would take to go. Yashka replied that it would be soon, and asked to go faster.

They went out onto a hillock, turned to the right, went down a hollow, crossed a flax field along a path, and then a river suddenly opened up in front of them.

The sun has risen, the fog has thinned. Heavy splashes were heard in the pools - the fish were walking.

The boys were almost waist-deep soaked in dew when Yashka finally said that they had come and began to descend to the water. He stumbled and flew down, scaring the ducks. Volodya licked his dry lips and jumped after him.

Yashka frightened his friend with the fact that no one bathes in the pool, because there is “no bottom” in it - it is so deep. Then he said that octopuses live there, and suddenly concluded that the village boy who told him about it was lying.

Having unwound the fishing rods, he handed one of them to Volodya and showed with his eyes the place where to fish, while he himself stared intently at the float.

Volodya also threw the rod, but hooked it to the willow. Yashka looked angrily at him, but suddenly saw that light circles were spreading around his float. He hooked it with force and felt that a fish was entering in the depths. Suddenly, the tension of the fishing line weakened, and an empty hook jumped out of the water. There was no more bite, and he carefully stuck the rod into the soft bank. Volodya followed his example.

Yashka was a little ashamed that he had missed the fish, and, as often happens, he was ready to attribute the blame to Volodya. He thought that if there was a real fisherman in the place of his current friend, then Yashka would only have time to pull out the fishing rod. He wanted to prick Volodya with something, when suddenly the float moved. Yashka, turning pale, began to hook the fish and, as a result, pulled a large cold bream out of the water. He turned his radiant face to Volodya, wanted to say something, but suddenly his expression changed. He saw how Volodin's fishing rod slowly slipped into the water, because someone was pulling the line. At that moment, the ground under Volodya’s feet gave way, and he, as if catching the ball, threw up his hands and fell into the water with a cry.

Yashka jumped up, scolded Volodya and was about to throw a clod of earth in his face when he emerged, but froze. Volodya, three meters from the shore, beat the water with his hands, throwing back his white face with bulging eyes to the sky, choking and trying to shout something.

Yashka thought with horror that his friend was drowning, and, feeling weak in his legs, he backed up from the water. Stories about octopuses immediately came to mind. He jumped out into the meadow, ran about ten meters, but, feeling that it was impossible to run away, he returned. There was no string in his pockets, and there was no one to call for help.

Yashka approached the cliff, looked down, expecting to see something terrible. He saw Volodya, but he no longer fought, but completely disappeared under the water, only the top of his head was still visible. Yashka jumped into the water and grabbed Volodya by the hand. Volodya grabbed

Yashka by the hand and tried to climb onto his shoulders. Yashka realized that Volodya would drown him, that his death had come, and trying to free himself, he kicked Volodya in the stomach with all his might. Feeling Volodin's weight on him, he tore him away from him, thrashed the water with his hands and rushed to the shore.

He came to his senses only when he grabbed the coastal sedge with his hands. I looked around - there was no one on the surface. Everything above the earth breathed calmness and silence, and meanwhile, a terrible thing happened: a man drowned, and it was he, Yashka, who drowned him.

Yashka took a breath, inhaled properly and dived. Volodya lay in the depths, entangled in the grass. Yashka, choking from lack of air at depth, grabbed Volodya by the shirt and pulled him along, surprised at how easily the body gave way. Then he surfaced, took a deep breath and swam to the shore. Feeling the bottom under his feet, he pushed Volodya onto the land face down and got out himself. Volodya's face was deathly pale, and Yashka wondered with horror if he had died. material from the site

Having got ashore, Yashka began to blow on Volodya's nose and put pressure on his stomach. Then he took the lifeless body by the legs and lifted it as far as he could. He began to shake, turning purple from the effort. And now, when he was already ready to sign his own impotence, water gushed out of Volodya's mouth and a su-road went through his whole body. Yashka let go of his friend's legs, sat down next to him on the ground and closed his eyes.

Volodya gasped for air, but again *fell on the grass, choking with a cough. Water continuously sputtered from his mouth.

Yashka crawled away and looked at Volodya in a relaxed way. He loved nothing now in the world more than that pale face. He looked tenderly at Volodya and asked how he was.

Volodya remembered everything and also began to cry, helplessly lowering his head and turning away from his savior.

The water in the pool has long calmed down, the fish from Volodya's fishing rod has long since broken, and the fishing rod itself has washed ashore.

The sun was shining, the dew-splashed bushes were ablaze, and only the water in the pool remained the same black. The smell of warm hay and clover flew from the fields in the distance. These smells mixed with the smells of the forest and, together with the warm summer wind, were like the breath of the awakened earth, enjoying a warm summer day.

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