Page 51 of Pioneer Summer

Having assured himself the child was uninjured and was in fact standing alive and well right there in front of him, covered in dirt from head to toe as one would expect, Volodya got himself under control. His voice became even, his breath grew calm, the gleam of his glasses was no longer fierce, and his eyes weren’t shooting out bolts of lightning.

“Volodya’s telling the truth. There’s no treasure,” said Yurka, confirming Volodya’s words.

“Yes there is! Maybe it’s not gold or jewels, but there is a treasure. And I was looking for it.”

“Petya, I forbid you from going to the unfinished barracks. It’s dangerous there. If you so much as poke your nose out there again, I won’t let you go to the river for the rest of session. Is that clear?”

“You’re the ones who tricked us, but now I can’t go to the river. That’s not fair!” said Pcholkin, offended.

“You can still go to the river. I’ll let you off this one time. But don’t you go near the unfinished barracks again,” ordered Volodya. Then he turned sharply on Yurka and asked suspiciously, “But what wereyoudoing there?”

“Just hanging around,” he mumbled. The unlit cigarette was burning a hole in his pocket. Pcholkin smiled knowingly.

Yurka’s conscience started bothering him. What kind of example was he giving Pcholkin? If he didn’t tell Volodya the truth, then he’d be lying.

“I was smoking,” he admitted. He saw Volodya set his finger on the bridge of his glasses and adjust them. He ducked his head. “Here it comes ...” But contrary to Yurka’s expectations, Volodya didn’t start reading him theriot act. All he did was throw up his hands in frustration and mumble, exhausted, “Et tu Brute ... Come on, Yura, how could you do that? You’re in camp. Aren’t you ashamed to do that in front of the children?”

“I am ashamed. I won’t do it again. Pioneer’s honor.”

Yurka could tell that if it hadn’t been for Pcholkin, the troop leader would’ve cursed him up one side and down the other, but as it was, it looked like he was going to get off easy. Volodya was bawling him out, but it seemed to be for show: “You’re not foisting your ‘Pioneer’s honor’ off on me. Give me your own word, on your own honor.”

“I give you my word, on my honor.” Yurka nodded, chastened.

“Okay, then,” said Volodya, although he was still frowning. “Okay, Konev. But don’t even try breaking my trust. Pcholkin, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Octoberist’s honor, I won’t go to the unfinished barracks anymore.”

Volodya shook his head and scoffed gently. “Oh, you two. What will I do with you?”

Yurka remembered that he wanted to tell Volodya about the chance for him and Ira Petrovna to make up, but just then the three Pukes bustled over. “What areyoudoing here? Did you come over to say the costumes are ready?” Yurka asked maliciously, while ignoring Pcholkin, who was pulling at his arm, clearly impatient for Yurka to sing the promised song.

Polina said hesitantly, “Um ... yeah ...” as she shot a look at Volodya.

“Well, not exactly,” Ulyana admitted.

“No,” Ksyusha summarized.

Just then the camp director walked over. “Ahem,” he apologized.

“Hello, Pal Palych!” they all greeted him in unison. After he called Volodya away, Pcholkin began nagging Yurka: “Come on, Yura, come on, let’s have it. You promised, so come on!”

Without answering him, Yurka began glumly:

“The Ivanov graveyard is sleeping,

An icy mist blankets its ground;

But the dear little dead in its keeping

Woke up and are walking around.”

The next part was a little more fun:

“Come see me in my grave, come see me in my home,

Just come and see me, dear, we’ll have a singalong,

Just come and see me, dear, we’ll rot away together,

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