Les Emelya knew very well. USE text about parental love. Mamin-Siberian. Problems

I

Far, far away, in the northern part of the Ural Mountains, in the impenetrable wilderness of the forest, the village of Tychki hid. There are only eleven yards in it, actually ten, because the eleventh hut stands quite separately, but near the forest itself. Around the village, an evergreen coniferous forest rises like a battlement. From behind the tops of the fir and fir trees one can see several mountains, which, as if on purpose, bypassed Tychki on all sides with huge bluish-gray ramparts. Closest to the others stands the hunchbacked Ruchevaya Mountain, with a gray hairy peak, which in cloudy weather is completely hidden in muddy, gray clouds. Many springs and streams run down from the Brook Mountain. One such brook merrily rolls towards the Pokes and in winter and summer all drink cold water, clear as a tear.

The huts in Tychki were built without any plan, as anyone wanted. Two huts stand above the river itself, one is on a steep mountainside, and the rest are scattered along the shore like sheep. There is not even a street in Tychky, and a beaten path travels between the huts. Yes, Tychkov’s peasants don’t even need the street at all, because there’s nothing to ride along it: in Tychki, no one has a single cart. In summer this village is surrounded by impenetrable swamps, swamps and forest slums, so that it can hardly be reached on foot only along narrow forest paths, and even then not always. In bad weather, mountain rivers play strongly, and it often happens that Tychkov’s hunters wait three days for the water to subside from them.

All Tychkov's men are note hunters. In summer and winter, they almost never leave the forest, since it is within easy reach. Every season brings with it certain prey: in winter they beat bears, martens, wolves, foxes; autumn - squirrel; in spring - wild goats; in the summer - every bird. In a word, hard and often dangerous work is all year round.

In that hut, which stands near the forest, the old hunter Emelya lives with his little granddaughter Grishutka. Emelya's hut has completely grown into the ground and looks at the light of God with just one window; the roof on the hut was rotten long ago, only collapsed bricks remained from the chimney. No fence, no gate, no barn - there was nothing near Emelin's hut. Only under the porch of unhewn logs, hungry Lysko howls at night - one of the best hunting dogs in Tychki. Before each hunt, Emelya spends three days starving the unfortunate Lysk, so that he would better search for game and track down any animal.

“Grandfather… and grandfather!..” little Grishutka asked with difficulty one evening. - Now deer with calves go?

“With calves, Grishuk,” Emelya answered, finishing off new bast shoes.

- That would be, grandfather, to get a calf ... Eh?

- Wait, we'll get it ... The heat has come, deer and calves will often hide from gadflies, then I'll get you a calf, Grishuk!

The boy did not answer, but only sighed heavily. Grishutka was only six years old, and now he was lying for the second month on a wide wooden bench under a warm reindeer skin. The boy caught a cold in the spring, when the snow was melting, and he could not get better. His swarthy little face grew pale and stretched out, his eyes became larger, his nose sharpened. Emelya saw how his granddaughter was melting by leaps and bounds, but did not know how to help grief. He gave some grass to drink, twice took it to the bath - the patient did not get better. The boy hardly ate anything. He chews a crust of black bread, and nothing more. Salted goat meat remained from spring; but Grishuk couldn't even look at her.

“Look what you wanted: a calf…” thought old Emelya, picking at his bast shoes. “You have to get…”

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D far away, in the northern part of the Ural Mountains, in the impenetrable wilderness of the forest, the village of Tychki hid. There are only eleven yards in it, actually ten, because the eleventh hut stands quite separately, but near the forest itself. Around the village, an evergreen coniferous forest rises like a battlement. From behind the tops of spruces and firs, you can see several mountains, which, as if on purpose, bypassed Tychki on all sides with huge bluish-gray ramparts ...

All Tychkov's men are note hunters. In summer and winter, they almost never leave the forest, since it is within easy reach. Every season brings with it certain prey: in winter they beat bears, martens, wolves, foxes; in the fall - a squirrel; in spring - wild goats; in the summer - every bird. In a word, hard and often dangerous work is all year round.

In that hut that stands near the forest, the old hunter Emelya lives with his little granddaughter Grishutka ...

Grandfather ... and grandfather! .. - little Grishutka asked with difficulty one evening. - Now deer with calves go?

With calves, Grishuk, - answered Emelya, weaving new bast shoes.

That would be, grandfather, to get a calf ... Huh?

Wait a minute, we'll get it... The heat has come, the deer and calves will often hide from the gadflies, then I'll get you a calf, Grishuk!

The boy did not answer, but only sighed heavily. Grishutka was only six years old, and now he was lying for the second month on a wide wooden bench under a warm reindeer skin. The boy caught a cold in the spring, when the snow was melting, and he could not get better. "Look what you wanted: a calf ... - thought old Emelya, picking his bast shoes. - You have to get it already ..."

Emelya was about seventy years old: gray-haired, hunched over, thin, with long arms. Emelya's fingers could hardly unbend, as if they were wooden branches. But he still walked briskly and obtained something by hunting. It’s time for the old man to rest, to a warm stove, and there’s no one to replace him, and then Grishutka found himself in his arms, he needs to be taken care of ... Grishutka’s father died three years ago from a fever, his mother was eaten by wolves when she and little Grishutka on a winter evening returned from the village to her hut. The child was saved by some miracle. The mother, while the wolves gnawed at her legs, covered the child with her body, and Grishutka remained alive.

The old grandfather had to raise a granddaughter, and then the disease happened. Misfortune never comes alone...

It was the last days of June, the hottest time in Tychky. There were only old and small houses left. Hunters have long dispersed through the forest for deer. For the third day in Yemelya's hut, poor Lysko howled with hunger like a wolf in winter.

It can be seen that Emelya was going to hunt, - the women said in the village.

It was true. Indeed, Emelya soon came out of his hut with a flintlock rifle in his hand, untied Lysk and headed for the forest. He was wearing new bast shoes, a knapsack with bread over his shoulders, a tattered caftan and a warm reindeer hat on his head. The old man had not worn a hat for a long time, and in winter and summer he went in his deerskin hat, which perfectly protected his bald head from the winter cold and from the summer heat.

Well, Grishuk, get better without me ... - Emelya said to his grandson at parting. - Old woman Malanya will look after you while I go for the calf.

Will you bring a calf, grandfather?

I'll take it, I said.

Yellowy?

Yellow...

Well, I'll be waiting for you... Look, don't miss when you shoot...

Emelya felt at home in the forest. Yes, and how could he not know this forest, when he wandered through it all his life with a gun and a dog. All the paths, all the signs - the old man knew everything for a hundred miles around.

And now, at the end of June, it was especially good in the forest: the grass was beautifully full of blooming flowers, there was a wonderful aroma of fragrant herbs in the air, and the gentle summer sun looked from the sky, pouring bright light on the forest, and the grass, and the river murmuring in the sedge, and distant mountains.

Yes, it was wonderful and good all around, and Emelya stopped more than once to take a breath and look back.

Well, Lysko, look ... - said Emelya, when they went down the mountain and turned off the path into a continuous dense spruce forest.

Lysk did not need to repeat the order. He knew his business perfectly and, sticking his sharp muzzle into the ground, disappeared into the dense green thicket. Only for a while his back with yellow spots flashed.

The hunt has begun...

For three days Emelya wandered through the forest with Lysk, and all in vain: he did not come across a deer with a calf. The old man felt that he was exhausted, but he did not dare to return home empty-handed. Lysko was also depressed and completely emaciated, although he managed to intercept a couple of young rabbits.

Only on the fourth day, when both the hunter and the dog were completely exhausted, they accidentally attacked the trail of a deer with a calf. It was in a dense spruce thicket on a mountain slope. First of all, Lysko found the place where the deer had spent the night, and then sniffed out the tangled trail in the grass.

“A mother with a calf,” thought Emelya, looking at the traces of large and small hooves on the grass. “We were here this morning ... Lysko, look, my dear! ..”

The day was sultry. The sun beat down mercilessly. The dog sniffed the bushes and grass with its tongue hanging out; Emelya could barely move his legs. But here is a familiar crack and rustle... Lysko fell on the grass and didn't move. In the ears of Emelya are the words of the granddaughter: "Grandfather, get a calf ... and by all means, so that it is yellow." There and the uterus ... It was a magnificent female deer. He stood at the edge of the forest and timidly looked straight at Emelya. A bunch of buzzing insects circled over the deer and made him flinch.

"No, you won't deceive me..." thought Emelya, crawling out of his ambush.

The deer had sensed the hunter for a long time, but boldly followed his movements.

"It's the uterus that takes me away from the calf," thought Emelya, crawling closer and closer.

When the old man wanted to take aim at the deer, he cautiously ran a few sazhens further and stopped again. Emelya again crawled up with his rifle. Again a slow creep, and again the deer disappeared as soon as Emelya wanted to shoot.

You won’t get away from the calf, - Emelya whispered, patiently tracking down the beast for several hours ...

Lysko, like a shadow, crawled after his master, and when he completely lost sight of the deer, he carefully poked him with his hot nose. The old man looked up and sat down. Ten sazhens from him, under a honeysuckle bush, stood the very yellow calf, after which he wandered for three whole days. It was a very pretty fawn, only a few weeks old, with yellow down and thin legs; the beautiful head was thrown back, and he stretched his thin neck forward when he tried to grab a twig higher. The hunter with a beating heart cocked the trigger of his rifle and aimed at the head of a small, defenseless animal...

Another moment, and the little deer would have rolled on the grass with a plaintive death cry; but it was at that moment that the old hunter remembered with what heroism his mother had defended the calf, remembered how Grishutka's mother had saved her son from the wolves with her life. Exactly what broke in the chest of old Emelya, and he lowered his gun. The fawn was still walking near the bush, plucking the leaves and listening to the slightest rustle. Emelya quickly got up and whistled, - a small animal disappeared into the bushes with the speed of lightning.

Look what a runner ... - said the old man, smiling thoughtfully. - I only saw him: like an arrow ... After all, Lysko, our deer, ran away? Well, he, the runner, still needs to grow up ... Oh, you are so smart! ..

The old man stood in one place for a long time and kept smiling, remembering the runner.

The next day, Emelya approached his hut.

And ... grandfather, did you bring a calf? Grisha met him, who had been impatiently waiting for the old man all the time.

No, Grishuk... saw him...

Yellowy?

Yellowish himself, and the muzzle is black. Standing under a bush and pinching leaves... I took aim...

And missed?

No, Grishuk: I took pity on the little beast... I took pity on the mother... As I whistle, and he, the calf, as if goading into the thicket, - they only saw him. He ran away, shot a sort of ...

The old man told the boy for a long time how he searched for the calf in the forest for three days and how he ran away from him. The boy listened and laughed merrily along with the old grandfather.

And I brought you a capercaillie, Grishuk, - Emelya added, finishing the story. - The wolves would have eaten it anyway.

The capercaillie was plucked, and then got into the pot. The free boy ate capercaillie stew with pleasure and, falling asleep, asked the old man several times:

So he ran away, deer?

Run away, Grishuk...

Yellowy?

All yellowish, only black muzzle and hooves.

The boy fell asleep like that, and all night he saw a little yellow deer, who was walking merrily through the forest with his mother; and the old man slept on the stove and also smiled in his sleep.

(printed in abbreviation)

It was the last days of June, the hottest time in Tychky. There were only old and small houses left. Hunters have long dispersed through the forest for deer. For the third day in Yemelya's hut, poor Lysko howled with hunger like a wolf in winter.

“It can be seen that Emelya is going to hunt,” the women said in the village.

It was true. Indeed, Emelya soon came out of his hut with a flintlock rifle in his hand, untied Lysk and headed for the forest. He was wearing new bast shoes, a knapsack with bread over his shoulders, a tattered caftan and a warm reindeer hat on his head. The old man had not worn a hat for a long time, and in winter and summer he went in his deerskin hat, which perfectly protected his bald head from the winter cold and from the summer heat.

- Well, Grishuk, get better without me ... - Emelya said to his grandson at parting. “Old Malanya will look after you while I go for the calf.

- Will you bring a calf, grandfather?

- I'll take it, he said.

- Yellow?

- Yellow...

- Well, I'll be waiting for you ... Look, don't miss when you shoot ...

Emelya had been going for deer for a long time, but he still regretted leaving his grandson alone, but now he seemed to be better, and the old man decided to try his luck. Yes, and old Malanya will look after the boy - it’s still better than lying alone in a hut.

Emelya felt at home in the forest. Yes, and how could he not know this forest, when he wandered through it all his life with a gun and a dog. All the paths, all the signs - the old man knew everything for a hundred miles around.

And now, at the end of June, it was especially good in the forest: the grass was beautifully full of blooming flowers, there was a wonderful aroma of fragrant herbs in the air, and the gentle summer sun looked from the sky, pouring bright light on the forest, and the grass, and the river murmuring in the sedge, and distant mountains.

Yes, it was wonderful and good all around, and Emelya stopped more than once to take a breath and look back.

The path along which he walked snaked up the mountain, passing large stones and steep ledges. A large forest was cut down, and young birch trees, honeysuckle bushes huddled near the road, and rowan trees spread out like a green tent. Here and there one came across thick copses of young spruce groves, which stood up like a green broom along the sides of the road and merrily bristled with their long-legged and shaggy branches. In one place, from half of the mountain, a wide view of the distant mountains and Tychki opened up. The village was completely hidden at the bottom of a deep mountain basin, and the peasant huts looked like black dots from here. Emelya, shielding his eyes from the sun, looked at his hut for a long time and thought about his granddaughter.

- Well, Lysko, look for ... - said Emelya, when they went down the mountain and turned off the path into a continuous dense spruce forest.

Lysk did not need to repeat the order. He knew his business perfectly and, sticking his sharp muzzle into the ground, disappeared into the dense green thicket. Only for a while his back with yellow spots flashed.

The hunt has begun.

Huge firs rose high to the sky with their sharp peaks. Shaggy branches intertwined with each other, forming an impenetrable dark vault above the hunter's head, through which only in some places a ray of sunshine would gleefully glance and burn yellowish moss or a wide fern leaf with a golden spot. Grass does not grow in such a forest, and Emelya walked on soft yellowish moss, as if on a carpet.

A hunter wandered through this forest for several hours. Lysko sank into the water. Only occasionally does a branch crunch under one's foot or a spotted woodpecker will fly over. Emelya carefully examined everything around: was there any trace somewhere, was the deer broken branches with its horns, was there a cloven hoof imprinted on the moss, was the grass on the hummocks eaten away. Beginning to get dark. The old man felt tired. It was necessary to think about lodging for the night.

“Probably, other hunters scared the deer away,” thought Emelya.

But now Lysk's faint squeal was heard, and branches crackled ahead. Emelya leaned against the trunk of the spruce and waited.

It was a deer. A real ten-horned handsome deer, the noblest of the forest animals. So he put his branching horns to his very back and listens attentively, sniffing the air, so that the next minute he will disappear like lightning into the green thicket.

Old Emelya saw a deer, but he was too far from him: a bullet could not reach him. Lysko lies in the thicket and does not dare to breathe in anticipation of a shot; he hears the deer, smells it... Then a shot rang out, and the deer, like an arrow, rushed forward. Emelya missed, and Lysko howled from the hunger that was taking him away. The poor dog has already smelled the smell of fried venison, has seen the appetizing bone that the owner will throw at him, and instead he has to go to bed with a hungry belly. Very bad story...