What he saw was a crude drawing of a thumb to a nose captioned with a dirty word.
Geika calmly tore the sheet in two; not a muscle of his face moved.
And at that moment the two boys were seized by the arms.
They did not resist.
"You deserve a black eye for delivering ultimatums like that," said Kvakin, coming up to Geika. "But we don't want to be too hard on you.
We'll lock you up till night time in here"—he pointed to the chapel—"and during the night we'll clean out the garden at No.24."
"Oh no, you won't," replied Geika unruffled.
"Oh yes, we will!" cried Figure, hitting Geika in the face.
"You can hit me a hundred times," said Geika. He shut his eyes tight and then opened them again. "Nick," he grunted encouragingly, "keep your pecker up.
I've got a feeling there'll be a No. 1 general rallying signal today."
The captives were shoved into the small chapel with its closed iron shutters. Both doors were then locked, bolted and barred from the outside.
"Well," Figure shouted at the door through cupped palms, "how are things going now, your way or ours?"
From inside came a hollow, scarcely audible answer:
"No, you bums, from now on things'll never go your way any more!"
Figure spat in disgust.
"His brother's a sailor," the close-cropped Alex explained morosely. "He and my uncle serve on the same ship."
"So what?" Figure asked menacingly. "Who are you, the captain or what?"
"You hit him when he couldn't use his hands.
Is that fair now?"
"I'll sock you one, too!" Figure snarled and swung his fist at Alex.
The two boys rolled over and over on the grass.
The others grabbed them by the arms and legs and tried to haul them apart.
Nobody noticed Sima Simakov's face appearing briefly in the thick foliage of a lime tree which grew near the fence. Sima slipped to the ground and sprinted across the vegetable patches toward the river, where Timur and the boys were swimming.
Olga, her head covered with a towel, was lying on the hot sandy beach reading.
Jenny was having a bathe.
Suddenly somebody came up from behind and gave her a hug.
She turned round.
"Hello," said a tall, dark-eyed girl. "Timur sent me, my name's Tanya, and I'm in his company too.
He's sorry you got into trouble with your sister because of him.
Your sister must be awfully bad-tempered, isn't she?"
"Tell him not to feel sorry," muttered Jenny, reddening. "Olga isn't bad-tempered at all, she's a bit tough, that's all." She made a little gesture of exasperation and added on a note of despair: "Oh, sister!
Just you wait till Dad comes home!"
They clambered out onto the steep bank a little bit to the left of the beach.
Here they ran into Annie.
"Hello, recognise me?" she asked Jenny, speaking, as always, very quickly through clenched teeth. "You do?
I recognised you right away.
There's Timur!" She pointed to the opposite bank, which was teeming with boys. "I know who found the goat for me, and who stacked the firewood, and who gave my brother the strawberries.
And I know you too," she said, turning to Tanya. "I once saw you sitting in your vegetable garden crying.
You oughtn't to cry.
Doesn't do any good.
Hey, stand still, you devil, or I'll throw you into the water!" she yelled at the goat, which was tied to a clump of bushes. Then she pulled off her dress. "Come on, girls, let's jump in!"
Jenny and Tanya exchanged glances.
She was somehow very comical, this sunburned girl who looked like a Gypsy!
Holding hands, they went up to the edge of the steep bank overlooking the clear, rippling, blue water.
"Well, shall we jump?"
"Yes, let's!"
And all together they plunged into the water.
No sooner had they surfaced than somebody else plopped in by their side.
It was Sima Simakov who had taken a running dive from the bank in his sandals, shorts and shirt.
Tossing back his wet hair and spluttering and snorting, he swam off with long strokes toward the opposite bank.