Konstantin Paustovsky - artel peasants. Artel men

I listened. The sky turned slightly blue outside the window of the hut. In the yard where the old pine tree grew, someone was sawing: zhik-zhik, zhik-zhik! The sawing was apparently done by experienced people: the saw ran smoothly and did not jam.

Varya ran out barefoot into the small entryway. It was cool there from the previous night.

Varya opened the door to the yard and looked in - under a pine tree, bearded men, each as tall as a small child, were sawing dry needles with effort. fir cone. The peasants placed pine needles for sawing on sawhorses made from cleanly planed wood chips.

There were four sawyers. They all wore the same brown army jackets. Only the beards of the peasants were different. One was red, another was black, like a crow's feather, the third was kind of like tow, and the fourth was gray.

- Hello! – Varya said quietly. -Who are you going to be?

The fir-cone-sized men turned around and pulled off their hats.

“We are woodcutters from the Forest Prank,” they all answered at once and bowed to Varya at the waist. “Don’t scold, mistress, that we’re sawing in your yard.” We agreed with the local ground beetle to prepare firewood for it for the winter, so we are trying.

“Well,” Varya said affectionately, “try as much as you need.” I don't mind dry pine needles. And my grandfather Prokhor is somewhat deaf and blind, he doesn’t recognize anything.

- That's right! - answered the gray-haired man, pulled out a dried dusty mushroom from his bosom by the ribbon, poured small mushroom tobacco from it into a pipe and lit it. “If you, granddaughter, need anything around the house, we will do it instantly.” We have an artel. We charge inexpensively.

- How much? - Varya asked and squatted down so that it would be easier for her to see the peasants and so that the peasants would not have to lift their heads when looking at Varya.

“It depends on the work,” the red-haired man answered readily. - Let’s say you need to hammer holes in logs that were gnawed by woodcutter beetles. And sealing those bugs tightly so that they don’t damage the hut is one price. This is difficult work.

- Why is it difficult?

- Like what? All beetle passages must be peeled and sealed with putty. There are such moves that you won’t be able to survive. You'll tear up your entire coat and get wet. Fool her, with such work! For it you have to take two nuts for each person.

– Two, not two, but one and a half nuts – the right price! – the gray-haired man remarked conciliatoryly. “We, granddaughter, can, for example, get into the walkers, clean all the mechanics with sandpaper and wipe with a rag. For this, of course, we take by agreement - five kopecks, or even six.

“Whatever you say,” the red-haired man got angry, “but chum is worse than collecting ant eggs.” You climb into an anthill, crawl around there, dust hits your nose, and the ants burn you! That's how they burn it! No matter how you grab it, you won’t be able to get it off!

– Why are they collected, ant eggs? – Varya asked.

- Nightingale food. We send them to the city. For sale.

“I, guys,” said Varya, “have a job, but I don’t know how you will cope with it.” It would be necessary to collect the strongest, silkiest spider web, wash it in rainwater, dry it in the night wind before the morning star goes out, twist yarn from that web on a copper spinning wheel and weave a belt from that yarn. And put golden hair in it.

- What hair? – the men were surprised.

– You smoke, and I’ll explain to you.

The peasants leaned their ringing saws against pine cone, sat down on a broken twig, as if on a log, took out pouches and pipes, cleared their throats, lit a cigarette, and prepared to listen.

And Varya told them how she was walking home from a neighboring village, carrying bagels to grandfather Prokhor. And she met two sparrows in the forest. They jumped on the aspen, jumping on each other, and so dashingly that red leaves rained down from the branches. A wood mouse leaned out of a hole under an aspen tree and swore at the sparrows: “Oh, you, he says, are robbers! Why are you upholstering dry leaves from trees ahead of time? You have no conscience at all!”

- It's right! - remarked a man with a beard that looked like tow. – Wood mouse Doesn't like fallen leaves. As soon as the leaves fall through the forests, she does not come out of the hole. He sits and shakes.

- How shoud I understand this? – asked the red-haired man. -What are you weaving?

- Is the mouse running on the ground? Oh no?

- Well, he’s running.

“And a raven or, say, a kite is circling over the forest and watching over her.” To grab and carry away. I'm on guard, no?

- Well, he’s on guard.

- So think about it. In summer, the mouse is buried in the grass and cannot be seen. And in the fall she runs along a dry leaf. The leaf cracks, rustles, moves - you can see it, this mouse, from afar. What a fool the crow is - and it will immediately catch it. It turns out that for safety the mouse needs to sit in the hole until the ground is covered with snow. She will then dig her own paths under the snow and run back and forth again. No eye will notice her.

- That's it! - said the gray-haired man. - Every animal has its own thoughts. So, you say, granddaughter, those sparrows fought hard?

- It’s just terrible how they fought! – Varya sighed. – They tear a golden hair from each other’s beak. And I keep looking. They tore it, tore it, and dropped it. It fell on a stump and rang. I grabbed that hair, put it in my bosom - and well, run! Well run! She came running home, and grandfather Prokhor said: “This hair is special. Behind our forests and lakes, he says, there is a distant land. In that region, for the second year now, there has been no winter, no spring or summer, but only autumn. All year round there, he says, the forest stands leafless and black, and every day it rains inclemently. Lives in that country, he says, a girl named Masha with golden braids. She is locked in an upper room, and she is guarded by three wolves with scarecrows and twenty-two badgers with sharp Cossack lances.” This, he says, was her hair that fell into your hands. And with that hair, if you weave it into a belt, you can perform such miracles that you wouldn’t even dream of it.

Someone chuckled behind Varya. Varya turned around and saw an old fat ground beetle. She squealed with laughter and wiped her watery eyes with her paw.

- Why are you laughing? – Varya got angry. - Oh, don’t you believe me?

The ground beetle took a breath and stopped laughing.

“It’s true what they say is that an old man is dumber than a young man.” Whatever your grandfather comes up with. It’s time for him to die, but all he has on his mind is self-indulgence.

“Grandfather Prokhor won’t talk in vain,” Varya answered. “You have no right to swear at your grandfather.”

“And you have the right,” the ground beetle hissed, “to clog up my sawyers’ problems with your basques!” Look, sit down and open your ears! I pay them three times a day barley grains per soul, and here they are, chilling out with conversations! Gentlemen have arrived!

- How about three grains?! - the red-haired man shouted. - We dressed up for four. This, brothers, is deception! We do not agree to this!

- Those who disagree! - all the men shouted.

- Just think how independent they are! - the ground beetle squeaked. - Three inches from the pot, in the rain all four of you hide under one mushroom, and make noise like full-sized men.

- Oh, old woman! – The gray-haired man shook his head. “I suppose you pray every day, bow before the icon, and squeeze the sweat from the working people.”

The red-haired man spat, tore off his hat in anger, threw it on the ground, rolled up the sleeves of his army coat and approached the ground beetle.

“Go away,” he said, “before I shake you in my own way!” Skvalyga!

- Is that you?

- Me? Ground beetle?

- Who else?

- Look, brother!

- Look for yourself! Will you leave? Oh no?

- Well, well, don’t swing!

The ground beetle squealed with anger and ran to the old stump - there she had a hole. As she ran, she turned around and shouted:

- I won’t forget this! You will repent!

– They drank their own firewood for three barley grains. Praying Mantis!

The gray-haired man just shook his head.

- So the ground beetle and I had a fight. So, now we can dress up with you freely, granddaughter. Tell me what your problem is.

fairy tale Artel peasants - What should I tell you! - Varya hurried. – Grandfather Prokhor says that the people in that country are severely hungry.

- It is known! – the man with a black beard agreed. - How not to starve! What good is such an autumn? Everything was wet and rotten. And nothing new will be born.

“Fallen leaves are also not sweet to eat,” added the red-haired man.

- What a problem! - sighed the man with a beard that looked like tow. “That means the little people are disappearing!”

- Oh, and they disappear! – Varya sighed. - Oh, and they disappear, uncle! Like cabbage worms. And why all? Because the men there are free and fair. A ruler came to them from a neighboring overseas country. Red-haired, angry, loud. And his eye is red from the vine. He came with his filthy army. And I wanted to take those men under my arm. But they did not give in. Then this ruler became terribly angry, quarreled, and trampled. “I, he screams, will kill you!” And autumn was visiting that country at that time. She looks like our village girl, and her name is Masha. Her hair is golden-gold, and she wears a sleeveless vest with squirrel fur. Time was already moving towards winter, it was time for autumn to leave for other countries, it was time to give way to the old woman to winter, but that was not the case! The ruler ordered his guards to seize Masha, not let her leave that country anywhere and lock her in a strong hut on long years. “Let these obstinate people, he says, live with me without winter, spring and summer, without grain growing and without harvest. Probably, he says, in two or three years they will reconcile themselves, bow at my feet and ask for forgiveness.”

- Yes! - muttered the gray-haired old man. - So she’s in the dungeon, autumn.

Paustovsky's fairy tale Artel peasants

“We need to free her,” Varya said.

– We understand this without you! - the red-haired man shouted. - Loosen up! What a smart one you found! So you go and relax yourself. But how?

“Grandfather Prokhor said that we should weave a belt with golden hair from the web and deliver it to Masha. As soon as she puts it on, the wolves will immediately fall to the ground, die, and the badgers will stab each other with their pikes. So I came up with an idea: would your team take up this matter? You are very inconspicuous. It doesn’t even cost you anything to get into the view.

The gray-haired man stood up, took off his hat, and asked:

- Well, artel? Do we agree?

- We agree! - all the men shouted.

- On your grub?

- On our own.

“Then we’ll take a short rest, refuel and go.”

Varya led the peasants into an empty beehive that lay behind the hut, and for the first day she brought them the master's afternoon snack there - a handful of fried oats and a piece of cottage cheese. The men ate heartily and leisurely, then took off their shoes and went to sleep before the difficult task. They covered themselves with their army coats and snored so much that even the bumblebees became quiet and began to listen: what kind of hum is that coming from the hive? Could it be that some enemy has climbed in there and is sharpening spruce needles on a whetstone, so that with those needles he can fight them, the bumblebees?

The bumblebees listened, listened and flew to Pinery hide in rotten stumps just in case.

Paustovsky. Artel peasants In the evening, when grandfather Prokhor fell asleep, the peasants wound up the web that was hanging in the barn and in the entryway, washed it in a bucket of rainwater, dried it in the wind until the morning star went out in the dawn sky, spun yarn from that web on a copper spinning wheel and weaved a belt. And they passed a golden hair through it.

“We should test the belt,” the peasants said to Varya. - So that there is no embarrassment.

- Oh, guys! – Varya was scared. - How can you test it! Grandfather Prokhor says that in our human hands that belt can only do two miracles, no more. Then he loses his strength. And in Masha’s hands he will again gain strength and do everything.

“We don’t need much from him,” the peasants answered. – The closest route to the autumn region is through the Great Swamp. Yes, you know, you won’t get through there. There are swamps all around. They even suck in our brother, although we weigh nothing. Come with us to the swamp, ask for a belt so that he can build a bridge for us across that swamp. Once it builds, it means there is strength in it. If he doesn’t build it, it means there is no strength in him. And then there is no point for us to meddle in that autumn land. We will only annoy Masha and destroy ourselves.

- Well, so be it! – Varya agreed. - Let's go!

The men tightened their belts, last time smoked and went. Varya walked ahead, and the peasants followed her, so that, at an uneven hour, she would not step on one of them. The peasants walked briskly, only going around the lingonberry bushes and diving under the ferns.

At dawn we approached the swamp. Varya took out the belt, tied it around her, and asked:

- Belt, dear friend, build a bridge across the swamp!

Before she had time to say these words, green frogs emerged from the rusty water. There were a great many of them - maybe a thousand, or even all three. The little frogs stretched out in a chain across the swamp, huddled close to each other, put their backs up and shouted:

- Walk, men, boldly! We won't drown you!

- Well! - the men said to Varya. - We should probably go. And you'll have to wait here. Give us a belt and goodbye!

Varya gave the belt to the peasants, and they left without even looking back. Why look around when you have to watch your step so as not to slip on a wet frog and fall headlong into a quagmire.

The peasants left, but Varya remained. She waited for the peasants until the evening, but they were still not there. Varya was frightened: had the peasants disappeared, had they run into wolves and badgers and they killed them all?

Varya thought and thought and told grandfather Prokhor everything that happened.

- Oh, you're stupid! - said grandfather Prokhor. - Why can’t your peasants the size of a fir cone handle such a thing? They are tiny and undersized. Instead of strength, they have only stealth. Surely the guards caught them. Then these desperate men disappeared, and Masha would have a bad time.

- What should we do, grandfather? – Varya asked in fear.

“Convene the people,” answered the grandfather. - The whole world needs to get together and go to the rescue of your peasants and Masha. Run and call people to the pasture. With pitchforks, with scythes, with drekoly, and whoever has them, with shotguns.

- Now, grandfather! – Varya shouted and jumped out of the hut.

And this is what happened to the peasants: when the sun rose and the fogs began to melt and thin, the peasants finally reached the autumn region, stopped on a sandy hillock, looked around for a long time and just sighed - they had never seen such a country in their lifetime.

Artel peasants The day, as luck would have it, turned out to be a fine day, and yellow forests stood to the very edge of the earth and rustled withered leaves. All the forests were entangled in cobwebs, and dew hung on that cobweb.

The men drank the dew. Each of them had two drops, only the red-haired one drank all three. Then they wiped their mustaches and grunted: “Wow, the water is delicious!” And even then, the dew fell at night, and the night was cold, clear, like autumn, shimmering with stars, breathing withered grass, and therefore in every dew there was hidden the chill of the night, the smell of grass and a quiet shine, like the reflection of a heavenly star.

It was clear from everything that autumn in this region was protracted and difficult. In the clearings, the wind swept so much rotten leaves that the peasants fell headlong into it - it was almost impossible to walk. The fields were brown and empty, and in the villages smoke from the stoves rarely streamed into the sky.

“It looks like the people here don’t have anything to cook anymore,” the peasants were talking quietly. - They ate everything clean. We walked through so many villages and never heard a cow moo or even a rooster crow. It was as if everything had died out. Give him free rein, this vile ruler, he will certainly devastate the whole earth and let the human race spread throughout the world.

The peasants walked, of course, with caution. As soon as they notice someone, they immediately hide. They were mostly buried in horse hoof marks.

The peasants were walking through the forest, when suddenly a terrible wind blew out of nowhere, tore off all the foliage, swirled it around and carried it away in a torrential downpour. And he began to blow harder and harder, until he lifted the peasants into the air and carried them, along with the leaves, back to the Great Swamp. The men got scared, flew, grabbed branches. How can you resist such pressure!

The red-haired man turned over several times in flight and shouted:

- This, brothers, is not without reason! The ruler sent the wind at us to push us back, to hinder us.

- How did he find out about us? – shouted a man with a black beard.

“The ground beetle lied to him and sent her hangers-on to him. They run faster than us.

- Oh, friends! - shouted a man with a beard that looked like tow. - It takes us into the swamp. Let's drown ourselves! Grandfather, you have a belt with golden hair. Ask him. Maybe he'll save us.

The gray-haired man hastily pulled a belt out of his pocket, wrapped it around himself, and shouted:

- Belt, my friend, stop the breeze!

- Stop! That's not what you're asking! – the redhead shouted angrily. - Why on earth would we have to come back from the Great Swamp again and disfigure our legs? You ask the wind to turn back and carry us all the way to Masha.

The gray-haired man realized and shouted again:

- Belt, my friend, turn the breeze! Let it carry us all the way to Masha’s feet!

And then the wind howled, hummed, began to turn at full speed, blew up so many leaves towards the sky that they rushed over the ground like a red cloud, covering the sky.

Now the peasants are already flying where they need to go, but their souls are still restless. They hoped that the belt would help them defeat the wolves and badgers, but it didn’t work out that way. The belt has already performed two miracles - with frogs and the wind, but will not do the third - it has already lost its power. Now only Masha can return this power to the belt. This means that they, the peasants, will have to fight the Guardian Machine not to the gut, but to the death.

Our peasants are flying, looking down, and forests, rivers, lakes, villages are rushing by and you can see people running out of their houses and marveling at the leafy red clouds.

Artel peasants Soon the plank roof shone behind the forest, the wind began to subside and dropped the peasants into a clearing near the black picket fence.

The peasants were sitting there, stupefied from the flight, and as soon as the wind died down, the leaf kept falling on them, falling all over them, and soon it covered them all and covered them all. It's warm and safe under this sheet.

The peasants caught their breath and began to figure out how best to climb over the stockade and deceive the guards. Because, whatever one may say, they couldn’t afford to fight now. The fight had to be delayed until the worst possible end.

They sit and talk all night, and in the morning they hear someone walking on a dry leaf, raking it, as if looking for something. The men looked at each other, and the red-haired one whispered:

-Have you heard? They are looking for us.

- What should we do? - the men ask.

“Out of all of you,” the redhead answers quietly, “I’m the most desperate.” I don't care!

- It's right! – the men agreed. - There is a lot of despair in you.

– And again, I’m a nimble person, hot-tempered. And my blow is very strong. As soon as I take an ax, I chop up a barley stalk in one fell swoop. And you beat for five minutes until you master that stem.

“Well then,” the men sighed. - And this, brother, is true.

“And therefore,” the red-haired man said importantly, “give me that belt.” If something happens, I alone will fight off all the wolves and badgers.

- Eh, Mitri! – the gray-haired man sighed. “I’ve become old and weak, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you that belt.” Yes, and I would have pulled you by the beard for your boasting. Take the belt.

The redhead took the belt, rolled it up, and put it in his bosom. At the same moment, the leaves rustled above the peasants’ heads and a rooster’s head poked out towards the peasants. The rooster's eye was angry, round, and his voice was hoarse - it is clear that the rooster has a grumpy, rude disposition. It's better not to mess with such a rooster.

Artel peasants - Paustovsky's fairy tale - What kind of beetles? - asked the rooster. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” And he didn’t peck. This is very interesting even to me!

The peasants started to run, but the rooster quickly raked up the leaves with his paws, and the gray-haired peasant, together with the black one and the one who had grown a beard that looked like tow, turned under the rooster’s paws, flew into the dust, and the rooster hit the red-haired peasant so hard on the back that he I just gasped.

The rooster grabbed him by the coat, held him in his beak, rushed with a sweeping run to the stockade, squeezed through a hole between the logs, ran through the yard - and straight into Masha’s room, so that there he could peck at an unknown beetle with a red beard in the freedom.

“Otherwise you start pecking in the yard,” thought the rooster, “the guards - the badgers - will immediately become attached: what kind of beetle is this, where did you get it, give it to us, why are you littering here with your beetle and so on?” You hit with your beak that you’ll wake up the chief of our guard, a wolf named Fang, and we’ll get burned for it.”

The rooster ran across the yard past the guards, of course, at a trot, and entered Masha’s room with dignity: he would raise one paw, stand, step, raise the other paw, stand again... The rooster was polite to Masha - she fed him crumbs every day.

The red-haired man's rooster threw him to the floor, and was just about to peck him harder when the red-haired man jumped up and rushed to Masha:

- Save me, beauty!

- Who are you? – Masha was scared.

“Yes, I’m kind of like your savior,” the red-haired man hastily answered, grabbed the hem of Masha’s dress, and looked around at the rooster.

Artel peasants - a fairy tale by K. G. Paustovsky And the rooster looks at him with one eye and approaches him from the side.

Masha stamped her foot on the rooster, the rooster flew up in the window, beat his wings, screamed, rushed into the yard and immediately began chatting with the badgers, telling them how he, the rooster, had goneoft - he almost pecked a man.

The badgers became alarmed and rushed to wake up the wolf named Fang, but it was already too late.

The red-haired man pulled out a belt from his bosom and quickly thrust it into Masha’s hand. She immediately girded herself with that belt, and the wolves immediately roared and died immediately, and the badgers rushed to escape, but huddled together near the gate, because everyone, of course, wanted to get through it first. The badgers crowded together, quarreled and began to fight. And they stabbed each other with sharp Cossack pikes.

Masha picked up the red-haired man from the floor, sat her in the palm of her hand, and he told her everything - about Varya, and about his comrades in the artel, and about how she and Varya agreed to free Masha-autumn from the ruler and return winter and spring to the people and summer, so that the earth will again begin to give birth to rich harvests.

Masha ordered the red-haired man to call everyone else to drink tea and relax. The redhead went out onto the porch and shouted:

- Hey, you weaklings! Come here before the bright, bright eyes of Masha the beauty! She wants to treat you to tea and will give each of you a hundred poppy seeds with fine sugar.

And so it was. The peasants came to the upper room, Masha sat them down on the table, treated them to what she had promised, and the peasants looked at her with all their eyes: Masha was too beautiful - her braids were cast in such gold that the whole upper room glowed from them, her eyes were blue, like the skies over the rye fields, her voice is talkative, like a stream, and she is all thin, like a blade of grass.

“If the rooster in its beak hadn’t brought you, red-haired one,” asked Masha, “what would you have done?”

The peasants stood up at once, bowed at the waist to Masha, and answered:

“We would fight for you with the guards, dear, until our last breath.” Because while you are in captivity, there is no life for the people, but only bitter grief and cruel death.

“Well,” said Masha, “now I’m free, and I need to leave quickly, to give way to winter.”

“That’s true,” the men agreed. - Thank you for the tea, for the affection. And we'll go.

-Where to so soon?

- We are not allowed. Work doesn't wait. Back in the summer, we contracted with our peasant society for all the grain that field mice they stole it and hid it in their holes, take it away from those mice and return it to its destination. And this is hard work: in every hole there is a scandal, and sometimes there is a fight.

- Well, if so, then go. Thank you and Varya very much. From myself and from people.

“It’s not worth your gratitude,” the men answered. - Be well, beauty of your honor!

The men took their leave and left. They had not gone three hundred steps before the sky became cloudy and snow began to fall from those dark clouds. Every hour, the snow became thicker, more plentiful, heavier. It was already hard to see the road through it. Everything around turned white, only the forest was still burning here and there with its last golden leaves above the snow.

The men felt cold. They walked faster, and at the very border of the autumn region they saw a large crowd of people in the distance. People walked with scythes, with pitchforks, with axes, with all sorts of woodcutters, and others kept old blued steel shotguns at the ready.

Ahead of the crowd, the peasants saw Varya. They recognized her by the blush on her cheeks and the red scarf draped over her head.

Artel men. Paustovsky K. G. The peasants stopped, took off their hats in front of the company, and bowed to the waist.

- Thanks for the help. Only we managed it ourselves, freed Masha-autumn from captivity.

All the people also took off their hats, thanked in return and congratulated the fir-cone peasants on their complete success and began inviting them to the huts to warm up and eat what God had sent them.

In each hut, the peasants were welcomed and treated to roasted nuts, sunflowers, poppy seeds, and raisins. And in one hut the peasants even drank a thimble of wine and ate pickled lingonberries.

Varya gave them some shag one last time, and the peasants, well-fed and drunk, went into the forest, where they lived in an old warm hollow, to rest before their new work.

They walked, looked around, bowed, and Varya waved her mitten after them and shouted:

- Thank you, dears!

And so much snow was already falling from the sky that it was difficult to breathe. The only way to catch your breath from such snow was under the old spruce trees. But the peasants did not even think about hiding from the snow. They walked, hugging each other, swaying, and sang their favorite song at the top of their voices in joy:

Here comes the postal troika

Along the pillar path.

And the bell - a gift from Valdai -

It hums sadly under the arc...

Varya looked after them and listened to the ringing song that faded away behind the veil of thick, gentle snow.

Write with suggestions. Contacts.

Artel men

Varya woke up at dawn and listened. The sky turned slightly blue outside the window of the hut. In the yard where the old pine tree grew, someone was sawing: zhik-zhik, zhik-zhik! The sawing was apparently done by experienced people: the saw ran smoothly and did not jam.

Varya ran out barefoot into the small entryway. It was cool there from the previous night.

Varya opened the door to the yard and looked in - under the pine tree, bearded men, each as tall as a small fir cone, were sawing dry needles with effort. The peasants placed pine needles for sawing on sawhorses made from cleanly planed wood chips.

There were four sawyers. They all wore the same brown army jackets. Only the beards of the peasants were different. One was red, another was black, like a crow's feather, the third was kind of like tow, and the fourth was gray.

Hello! - Varya said quietly. - Who are you?

The fir-cone-sized men turned around and pulled off their hats.

“We are woodcutters from the Forest Prank,” they all answered at once and bowed to Varya from the waist. - Don’t scold, hostess, that we are sawing in your yard. We agreed with the local ground beetle to prepare firewood for it for the winter, so we are trying.

Well,” Varya said affectionately, “try as much as you need.” I don't mind dry pine needles. And my grandfather Prokhor is somewhat deaf and blind, he doesn’t recognize anything.

That's right! - answered the gray-haired man, pulled out a dried dusty mushroom from his bosom by the ribbon, poured small mushroom tobacco from it into a pipe and lit it. - If you, granddaughter, need anything around the house, we will do it instantly. We have an artel. We charge inexpensively.

How much? - Varya asked and squatted down so that it would be easier for her to see the peasants and so that the peasants would not have to lift their heads when looking at Varya.

“It depends on your work,” the red-haired man answered readily. - Let’s say, you need to hammer holes in the logs that were gnawed by lumberjack beetles. And sealing those bugs tightly so that they don’t damage the hut is one price. This is difficult work.

Why is it difficult?

Like what? All beetle passages must be peeled and sealed with putty. There are such moves that you won’t be able to survive. You'll tear up your entire coat and get wet. Fool her, with such work! For it you have to take two nuts for each person.

Two, not two, but one and a half nuts - the right price! - the gray-haired man remarked conciliatoryly. - We, granddaughter, can, for example, get into the walkers, clean all the mechanics with sandpaper and wipe with a rag. For this, of course, we take by agreement - five kopecks, or even six.

Whatever you say,” the red-haired man got angry, “but chum is worse than collecting ant eggs.” You climb into an anthill, crawl around there, dust hits your nose, and the ants burn you! That's how they burn it! No matter how you grab it, you won’t be able to get it off!

Why are they collected, ant eggs? - Varya asked.

Nightingale food. We send them to the city. For sale.

“I, peasants,” said Varya, “have a job, but I don’t know how you will cope with it.” It would be necessary to collect the strongest, silkiest spider web, wash it in rainwater, dry it in the night wind before the morning star goes out, twist yarn from that web on a copper spinning wheel and weave a belt from that yarn. And put golden hair in it.

What hair? - the men were surprised.

You smoke, and I will explain to you.

The peasants leaned their ringing saws against a pine cone, sat down on a broken branch as if on a log, took out pouches and pipes, cleared their throats, lit a cigarette, and prepared to listen.

And Varya told them how she was walking home from a neighboring village, carrying bagels to grandfather Prokhor. And she met two sparrows in the forest. They jumped on the aspen, jumping on each other, and so dashingly that red leaves rained down from the branches. A wood mouse leaned out of a hole under an aspen tree and swore at the sparrows: “Oh, you, he says, are robbers! Why are you upholstering dry leaves from trees ahead of time? You have no conscience at all!”

It's right! - remarked a man with a beard that looked like tow. - The wood mouse doesn’t like fallen leaves. As soon as the leaves fall through the forests, she does not come out of the hole. He sits and shakes.

How shoud I understand this? - asked the red-haired man. -What are you weaving?

Does a mouse run on the ground? Oh no?

Well, he's running.

And a raven or, say, a kite circles over the forest and watches over her. To grab and carry away. I'm on guard, no?

Well, he's on guard.

So think about it. In summer, the mouse is buried in the grass and cannot be seen. And in the fall she runs along a dry leaf. The leaf cracks, rustles, moves - you can see it, this mouse, from afar. No matter how stupid the crow is, it will immediately catch it. It turns out that for safety the mouse needs to sit in the hole until the ground is covered with snow. She will then dig her own paths under the snow and run back and forth again. No eye will notice her.

That's it! - said the gray-haired man. - Every animal has its own thoughts. So, you say, granddaughter, those sparrows fought hard?

It was just terrible how they fought! - Varya sighed. - They tear a golden hair from each other's beak. And I keep looking. They tore it, tore it, and dropped it. It fell on a stump and rang. I grabbed that hair, stuck it in my bosom - and well, run! Well run! She came running home, and grandfather Prokhor said: “This hair is special. Behind our forests and lakes, he says, there is a distant land. In that region, for the second year now, there has been no winter, no spring or summer, but only autumn. All year round there, he says, the forest stands leafless and black, and every day it rains inclemently. Lives in that country, he says, a girl named Masha with golden braids. She is locked in an upper room, and she is guarded by three wolves with scarecrows and twenty-two badgers with sharp Cossack lances.” This, he says, was her hair that fell into your hands. And with that hair, if you weave it into a belt, you can perform such miracles that you wouldn’t even dream of it.

Someone chuckled behind Varya. Varya turned around and saw an old fat ground beetle. She squealed with laughter and wiped her watery eyes with her paw.

Why are you laughing? - Varya got angry. - Oh, don’t you believe me?

The ground beetle took a breath and stopped laughing.

It is truly said that an old man is dumber than a young one. Whatever your grandfather comes up with. It’s time for him to die, but all he has on his mind is self-indulgence.

“Grandfather Prokhor won’t talk in vain,” Varya answered. - You have no right to swear at your grandfather.

“And you have the right,” the ground beetle hissed, “to clog up my sawyers’ problems with your basques!” Look, sit down and open your ears! I pay them three barley grains per day per day, and here they are chilling with their conversations! Gentlemen have arrived!

How about three grains?! - the red-haired man shouted. - We dressed up for four. This, brothers, is deception! We do not agree to this!

Those who disagree! - all the men shouted.

Just think, how independent! - the ground beetle squeaked. - Three inches from the pot, in the rain all four of you hide under one mushroom, and make noise like full-sized men.

Oh, old woman! - The gray-haired man shook his head. “I suppose you pray every day, bow before the icon, and squeeze the sweat from the working people.”

The red-haired man spat, tore off his hat in anger, threw it on the ground, rolled up the sleeves of his army coat and approached the ground beetle.

Go away,” he said, “before I shake you in my own way!” Skvalyga!

Is that you?

Me? Ground beetle?

And then who!

Look, brother!

See for yourself! Will you leave? Oh no?

Well, well, don't swing!

The ground beetle squeaked with anger and ran to the old stump - there she had a hole. As she ran, she turned around and shouted:

I won't forget this! You will repent!

They drank their own firewood for three barley grains. Praying Mantis!

The gray-haired man just shook his head.

So the ground beetle and I had a quarrel. So, now we can dress up with you freely, granddaughter. Tell me what your problem is.

What should I tell you? - Varya hurried. - Grandfather Prokhor says that the people in that country are severely hungry.

Known! - the man with a black beard agreed. - How not to starve! What good is such an autumn? Everything was wet and rotten. And nothing new will be born.

The fallen leaf is also not sweet to eat,” added the red-haired man.

What a disaster! - sighed a man with a beard that looked like tow. - That means the little people are disappearing!

Oh, and they disappear! - Varya sighed. - Oh, and they disappear, uncle! Like cabbage worms. And why all? Because the men there are free and fair. A ruler came to them from a neighboring overseas country. Red-haired, angry, loud. And his eye is red from the vine. He came with his filthy army. And I wanted to take those men under my arm. But they did not give in. Then this ruler became terribly angry, quarreled, and trampled. “I, he screams, will kill you!” And autumn was visiting that country at that time. She looks like our village girl, and her name is Masha. Her hair is golden-gold, and she wears a sleeveless vest with squirrel fur. Time was already moving towards winter, it was time for autumn to leave for other countries, it was time to give way to the old woman to winter, but that was not the case! The ruler ordered his guards to seize Masha, not let her leave that country anywhere, and lock her in a strong hut for many years. “Let these obstinate people, he says, live with me without winter, spring and summer, without grain growing and without harvest. Probably, he says, in two or three years they will reconcile themselves, bow at my feet and ask for forgiveness.”

Soooo! - muttered the gray-haired old man. - So she’s in the dungeon, autumn.

“We need to free her,” Varya said.

We understand this without you! - the red-haired man shouted. - Loosen up! What a smart one you found! So you go and relax yourself. But how?

Grandfather Prokhor said that we should weave a belt with golden hair from the web and deliver it to Masha. As soon as she puts it on, the wolves will immediately fall to the ground, die, and the badgers will stab each other with their pikes. So I came up with an idea: would your team take up this matter? You are very inconspicuous. It doesn’t even cost you anything to get into the view.

The gray-haired man stood up, took off his hat, and asked:

Well, artel? Do we agree?

We agree! - all the men shouted.

On your grub?

On our own.

Then we’ll take a short break, refuel and go.

Varya led the peasants into an empty beehive that lay behind the hut, and for the first day she brought them the master's afternoon snack there - a handful of fried oats and a piece of cottage cheese. The men ate heartily and leisurely, then took off their shoes and went to sleep before the difficult task. They covered themselves with their army coats and snored so much that even the bumblebees became quiet and began to listen: what kind of hum is that coming from the hive? Could it be that some enemy has climbed in there and is sharpening spruce needles on a whetstone, so that with those needles he can fight them, the bumblebees?

The bumblebees listened and listened and flew into the pine forest to hide in the rotten stumps, just in case.

In the evening, when Grandfather Prokhor fell asleep, the peasants wound up the cobwebs that hung in the barn and in the entryway, washed it in a bucket of rainwater, dried it in the wind until the morning star went out in the dawn sky, twisted yarn from that cobweb on a copper spinning wheel and wove belt And they passed a golden hair through it.

“We should try the belt,” the peasants told Varya. - So that there is no embarrassment.

Oh, guys! - Varya was scared. - Yes, how can you experience it! Grandfather Prokhor says that in our human hands that belt can only do two miracles, no more. Then he loses his strength. And in Masha’s hands he will again gain strength and do everything.

“We don’t need much from him,” the men answered. - The closest route to the autumn region is through the Great Swamp. Yes, you know, you won’t get through there. There are swamps all around. They even suck in our brother, although we weigh nothing. Come with us to the swamp, ask for a belt so that he can build a bridge for us across that swamp. Once it builds, it means there is strength in it. If it doesn’t build, it means there is no strength in it. And then there is no point for us to meddle in that autumn land. We will only annoy Masha and destroy ourselves.

Well, so be it! - Varya agreed. - Let's go!

The men tightened their belts, smoked one last time and left. Varya walked ahead, and the peasants followed her, so that, at an uneven hour, she would not step on one of them. The peasants walked briskly, only going around the lingonberry bushes and diving under the ferns.

At dawn we approached the swamp. Varya took out the belt, tied it around her, and asked:

Belt, dear friend, build a bridge across the swamp!

Before she had time to say these words, green frogs emerged from the rusty water. There were a great many of them - maybe a thousand, or even all three. The little frogs stretched out in a chain across the swamp, huddled close to each other, put their backs up and shouted:

Walk, men, boldly! We won't drown you!

Well! - the men said to Varya. - We should probably go. And you'll have to wait here. Give us a belt and goodbye!

Varya gave the belt to the peasants, and they left without even looking back. Why look around when you have to watch your step so as not to slip on a wet frog and fall headlong into a quagmire.

The peasants left, but Varya remained. She waited for the peasants until the evening, but they were still not there. Varya was frightened: had the peasants disappeared, had they run into wolves and badgers and they killed them all?

Varya thought and thought and told grandfather Prokhor everything that happened.

Oh, you're stupid! - said grandfather Prokhor. - Is it possible that your peasants, the size of a fir cone, can handle such a thing? They are tiny and undersized. Instead of strength, they have only stealth. Surely the guards caught them. Then these desperate men disappeared, and Masha would have a bad time.

What to do, grandfather? - Varya asked in fear.

“Convene the people,” answered the grandfather. - The whole world needs to get together and go to the rescue of your peasants and Masha. Run and call people to the pasture. With pitchforks, with scythes, with drekoly, and whoever has them, with shotguns.

Now, grandpa! - Varya shouted and jumped out of the hut.

And this is what happened to the peasants: when the sun rose and the fogs began to melt and thin, the peasants finally reached the autumn region, stopped on a sandy hillock, looked around for a long time and just sighed - they had never seen such a country in their lifetime.

The day, as luck would have it, turned out to be a fine day, and yellow forests stood to the very edge of the earth and rustled withered leaves. All the forests were entangled in cobwebs, and dew hung on that cobweb.

The men drank the dew. Each of them had two drops, only the red-haired one drank all three. Then they wiped their mustaches and grunted: “Wow, the water is delicious!” And even then, the dew fell at night, and the night was cold, clear, like autumn, shimmering with stars, breathing withered grass, and therefore in every dew there was hidden the chill of the night, the smell of grass and a quiet shine, like the reflection of a heavenly star.

It was clear from everything that autumn in this region was protracted and difficult. In the clearings, the wind swept so much rotten leaves that the peasants fell into it headlong - it was almost impossible to walk. The fields were brown and empty, and in the villages smoke from the stoves rarely streamed into the sky.

It looks like the people here don’t have anything to cook anymore,” the peasants were talking quietly. - They ate everything clean. We walked through so many villages and never heard a cow moo or even a rooster crow. It was as if everything had died out. Give him free rein, this vile ruler, he will certainly devastate the whole earth and let the human race spread throughout the world.

The peasants walked, of course, with caution. As soon as they notice someone, they immediately hide. They were mostly buried in horse hoof marks.

The peasants were walking through the forest, when suddenly a terrible wind blew out of nowhere, tore off all the foliage, swirled it around and carried it away in a torrential downpour. And he began to blow harder and harder, until he lifted the peasants into the air and carried them, along with the leaves, back to the Great Swamp. The men got scared, flew, grabbed branches. How can you resist such pressure!

The red-haired man turned over several times in flight and shouted:

This, brothers, is not without reason! The ruler sent the wind at us to push us back, to hinder us.

How did he find out about us? - shouted a man with a black beard.

The ground beetle lied to him and sent her hangers-on to him. They run faster than us.

Oh, friends! - shouted a man with a beard that looked like tow. - It takes us into the swamp. Let's drown ourselves! Grandfather, you have a belt with golden hair. Ask him. Maybe he'll save us.

The gray-haired man hastily pulled a belt out of his pocket, wrapped it around himself, and shouted:

Belt, my friend, stop the breeze!

Stop! That's not what you're asking! - the red-haired man shouted angrily. - Why on earth should we come back from the Great Swamp and disfigure our legs? You ask the wind to turn back and carry us all the way to Masha.

The gray-haired man realized and shouted again:

Belt, be my friend, turn the breeze! Let it carry us all the way to Masha’s feet!

And then the wind howled, hummed, began to turn at full speed, blew up so many leaves towards the sky that they rushed over the ground like a red cloud, covering the sky.

Now the peasants are already flying where they need to go, but their souls are still restless. They hoped that the belt would help them defeat the wolves and badgers, but it didn’t work out that way. The belt has already made two miracles - with frogs and the wind, but it won’t do the third - it has already lost its power. Now only Masha can return this power to the belt. This means that they, the peasants, will have to fight the Guardian Machine not to the gut, but to the death.

Our peasants are flying, looking down, and forests, rivers, lakes, villages are rushing by and you can see people running out of their houses and marveling at the leafy red clouds.

Soon the plank roof behind the forest began to shine, the wind began to subside and dropped the peasants into a clearing near the black picket fence.

The peasants were sitting there, stupefied from the flight, and as soon as the wind died down, the leaf kept falling on them, falling all over them, and soon it covered them all and covered them all. It's warm and safe under this sheet.

The peasants caught their breath and began to figure out how best to climb over the stockade and deceive the guards. Because, whatever one may say, they couldn’t afford to fight now. The fight had to be delayed until the worst possible end.

They sit and talk all night, and in the morning they hear someone walking on a dry leaf, raking it, as if looking for something. The men looked at each other, and the red-haired one whispered:

Have you heard? They are looking for us.

What should we do? - the men ask.

“Out of all of you,” the redhead answers quietly, “I’m the most desperate.” I don't care!

It's right! - the men agreed. - There is a lot of despair in you.

And again, I am a nimble person, hot. And my blow is very strong. As soon as I take an ax, I chop up a barley stalk in one fell swoop. And you beat for five minutes until you master that stem.

Well, - the men sighed. - And this, brother, is true.

And therefore,” the red-haired man said importantly, “give me that belt.” If something happens, I alone will fight off all the wolves and badgers.

Eh, Mitri! - the gray-haired man sighed. “I’ve become old and weak, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you that belt.” Yes, and I would have pulled you by the beard for your boasting. Take the belt.

The redhead took the belt, rolled it up, and put it in his bosom. At the same moment, the leaves rustled above the peasants’ heads and a rooster’s head poked out towards the peasants. The rooster's eye was angry, round, and his voice was hoarse - it is clear that the rooster has a grumpy, rude disposition. It's better not to mess with such a rooster.

What kind of bugs? - asked the rooster. - I've never seen anything like this. And he didn’t peck. This is very interesting even to me!

The peasants started to run, but the rooster quickly raked up the leaves with his paws, and the gray-haired peasant, together with the black one and the one who had grown a beard that looked like tow, turned under the rooster’s paws, flew into the dust, and the rooster hit the red-haired peasant so hard on the back that he I just gasped.

The rooster grabbed him by the coat, held him in his beak, rushed with a sweeping run to the stockade, squeezed through a hole between the logs, ran through the yard - and straight into Masha’s room, so that there, in the freedom, he could peck at an incomprehensible beetle with a red beard.

“Otherwise you start pecking in the yard,” the rooster thought, “the guards - the badgers - will immediately become attached: what kind of beetle is this, where did you get it, give it to us, why are you littering here with your beetle and so on?” You hit with your beak that you’ll wake up the chief of our guard, a wolf named Fang, and we’ll get burned for it.”

The rooster ran across the yard past the guards, of course, at a trot, and entered Masha’s room with dignity: he would raise one paw, stand, step, raise the other paw, stand again... The rooster was courteous to Masha - she fed him crumbs every day.

The red-haired man's rooster threw him to the floor, and was just about to peck him harder when the red-haired man jumped up and rushed to Masha:

Save me, beauty!

Who are you? - Masha was scared.

“Yes, I’m kind of like your savior,” the red-haired man hastily answered, grabbed the hem of Masha’s dress, and looked around at the rooster.

And the rooster looks at him with one eye and approaches him from the side.

Masha stamped her foot on the rooster, the rooster flew up in the window, beat his wings, screamed, rushed into the yard and immediately began chatting with the badgers, telling them how he, the rooster, had goneoft - he almost pecked a man.

The badgers became alarmed and rushed to wake up the wolf named Fang, but it was already too late.

The red-haired man pulled out a belt from his bosom and quickly thrust it into Masha’s hand. She immediately girded herself with that belt, and the wolves immediately roared and died immediately, and the badgers rushed to escape, but huddled together near the gate, because everyone, of course, wanted to get through it first. The badgers crowded together, quarreled and began to fight. And they stabbed each other with sharp Cossack pikes.

Masha picked up the red-haired peasant from the floor, sat her in the palm of her hand, and he told her everything - about Varya, and about his comrades in the artel, and about how she and Varya agreed to free Masha-autumn from the ruler and return winter and spring to the people and summer, so that the earth will again begin to give birth to rich harvests.

Masha ordered the red-haired man to call everyone else to drink tea and relax. The redhead went out onto the porch and shouted:

Hey you weaklings! Come here before the bright, bright eyes of Masha the beauty! She wants to treat you to tea and will give each of you a hundred poppy seeds with fine sugar.

And so it was. The peasants came to the upper room, Masha sat them down on the table, treated them to what she had promised, and the peasants looked at her with all their eyes: Masha was too beautiful - her braids were cast in such gold that the whole upper room glowed from them, her eyes were blue, like the skies over the rye fields, her voice is talkative, like a stream, and she is all thin, like a blade of grass.

If the rooster in its beak hadn’t brought you, red-haired one,” asked Masha, “what would you have done?”

The peasants stood up at once, bowed at the waist to Masha, and answered:

The guards would fight for you, dear, until their last breath. Because while you are in captivity, there is no life for the people, but only bitter grief and cruel death.

Well,” said Masha, “now I’m free, and I need to leave quickly, to give way to winter.”

“That’s right,” the men agreed. - Thank you for the tea, for the affection. And we'll go.

Where to so soon?

We are not allowed. Work doesn't wait. Back in the summer, we agreed with our peasant society to take away all the grain that the field mice stole and hid in their holes, to take away from those mice and return it to its intended purpose. And this is hard work: in every hole there is a scandal, and sometimes there is a fight.

Well, if so, then go. Thank you and Varya very much. From myself and from people.

“It’s not worth your gratitude,” the men answered. - Be safe, beauty of your honor!

The men took their leave and left. They had not gone three hundred steps before the sky became cloudy and snow began to fall from those dark clouds. Every hour, the snow became thicker, more plentiful, heavier. It was already hard to see the road through it. Everything around turned white, only the forest was still burning here and there with its last golden leaves above the snow.

The men felt cold. They walked faster, and at the very border of the autumn region they saw a large crowd of people in the distance. People walked with scythes, with pitchforks, with axes, with all sorts of woodcutters, and others kept old blued steel shotguns at the ready.

Ahead of the crowd, the peasants saw Varya. They recognized her by the blush on her cheeks and the red scarf draped over her head.

The peasants stopped, took off their hats in front of the company, and bowed at the waist.

Thanks for the help. Only we managed it ourselves, freed Masha-autumn from captivity.

All the people also took off their hats, thanked in return and congratulated the peasants with a fir cone on their complete success and began to invite them to the huts - to warm up and eat what God sent.

In each hut, the peasants were welcomed and treated to roasted nuts, sunflowers, poppy seeds, and raisins. And in one hut the peasants even drank a thimble of wine and ate pickled lingonberries.

Varya gave them some shag one last time, and the peasants, well-fed and drunk, went into the forest, where they lived in an old warm hollow, to rest before their new work.

They walked, looked around, bowed, and Varya waved her mitten after them and shouted:

Thank you, dears!

And so much snow was already falling from the sky that it was difficult to breathe. The only way to catch your breath from such snow was under the old spruce trees. But the peasants did not even think about hiding from the snow. They walked, hugging each other, swaying, and sang their favorite song at the top of their voices in joy:

Here comes the postal troika

Along the pillar path.

And the bell - a gift from Valdai -

It hums sadly under the arc...

Varya looked after them and listened to the ringing song that faded away behind the veil of thick, gentle snow.

Notes

First published in the collection “The Running of Time”, publishing house “Soviet Writer”, 1954.

Varya woke up at dawn and listened. The sky turned slightly blue outside the window of the hut. In the yard where the old pine tree grew, someone was sawing: zhik-zhik, zhik-zhik! The sawing was apparently done by experienced people: the saw ran smoothly and did not jam.

Varya ran out barefoot into the small entryway. It was cool there from the previous night.

Varya opened the door to the yard and looked in: under the pine tree, bearded men, each as tall as a small fir cone, were sawing dry pine needles with effort. The peasants placed pine needles for sawing on sawhorses made from cleanly planed wood chips.

There were four sawyers. They all wore the same brown army jackets. Only the beards of the peasants were different. One was red, another was black, like a crow's feather, the third was kind of like tow, and the fourth was gray.

Hello! – Varya said quietly. -Who are you going to be?

The fir-cone-sized men turned around and pulled off their hats.

“We are woodcutters from the Forest Prank,” they all answered at once and bowed to Varya from the waist. “Don’t scold, mistress, that we’re sawing in your yard.” We agreed with the local ground beetle to prepare firewood for it for the winter, so we are trying.

Well,” Varya said affectionately, “try as much as you need.” I don't mind dry pine needles. And my grandfather Prokhor is somewhat deaf and blind, he doesn’t recognize anything.

That's right! - answered the gray-haired man, pulled out a dried dust mushroom from his bosom by the ribbon, poured small mushroom tobacco from it into a pipe and lit it. “If you, granddaughter, need anything around the house, we will do it instantly.” We have an artel. We take it inexpensively.

How much? - Varya asked and squatted down so that it would be easier for her to see the peasants and so that the peasants would not have to lift their heads when looking at Varya.

“It depends on the work,” the red-haired man answered willingly. “Let’s say, you need to hammer holes in the logs that were gnawed by woodcutter beetles.” And sealing those bugs tightly so that they don’t damage the hut is one price. This is difficult work.

Why is it difficult?

How - with what? All beetle passages must be peeled and sealed with putty. There are such moves that you can’t make it through. You'll tear up your entire coat and get wet. Fool her, with such work! For it you have to take two nuts for each person.

Two, not two, but one and a half nuts – the right price! – the gray-haired man remarked conciliatoryly. “We, granddaughter, can, for example, get into the walkers, clean all the mechanics with sandpaper and wipe with a rag. For this, of course, we charge by agreement - five kopecks, or even six.

Whatever you say,” the red-haired man got angry, “there’s nothing worse than collecting ant eggs.” You climb into an anthill, crawl around there, dust hits your nose, and the ants burn you! That's how they burn it! No matter how you grab it, you won’t be able to get it off!

Why are they collected, ant eggs? – Varya asked.

Nightingale food. We send them to the city. For sale.

“I, peasants,” said Varya, “have a job, but I don’t know how you will cope with it.” It would be necessary to collect the strongest, silkiest spider web, wash it in rainwater, dry it in the night wind before the morning star goes out, twist yarn from that web on a copper spinning wheel and weave a belt from that yarn. And put golden hair in it.

What hair? – the men were surprised.

You smoke, and I will explain to you.

The peasants leaned their ringing saws against a pine cone, sat down on a broken branch as if on a log, took out pouches and pipes, cleared their throats, lit a cigarette, and prepared to listen.

And Varya told them how she was walking home from a neighboring village, carrying bagels to grandfather Prokhor. And she met two sparrows in the forest. They jumped on the aspen, jumped on each other, and so dashingly that red leaves rained down from the branches. A wood mouse leaned out of a hole under an aspen tree and swore at the sparrows: “Oh, you, he says, are robbers! Why are you upholstering dry leaves from trees ahead of time? You have no conscience at all!”

It's right! - remarked a man with a beard that looked like tow. – The wood mouse doesn’t like fallen leaves. As soon as the leaves fall through the forests, she does not come out of her hole. He sits shaking.

How shoud I understand this? – asked the red-haired man. -What are you weaving?

Does a mouse run on the ground? Oh no?

Well, he's running.

And a raven or, say, a kite circles over the forest and watches over her. To grab and carry away. He's on guard, oh no?

Well, he's on guard.

So think about it. In summer, the mouse is buried in the grass and cannot be seen. And in the fall she runs along a dry leaf. The leaf cracks, rustles, moves - you can see it, this mouse, from afar. What a fool the crow is, and it will immediately catch it. It turns out that for safety the mouse needs to sit in the hole until the ground is covered with snow. She will then dig her own paths under the snow and run back and forth again. No eye will notice her.

That's it! - said the gray-haired man. - Every animal has its own thoughts. So, you say, granddaughter, those sparrows fought hard?

It was just terrible how they fought! – Varya sighed. – They tear a golden hair from each other’s beak. And I keep looking. It fell on a tree stump and rang. I grabbed that hair, put it in my bosom - and well, run! She came running home, and grandfather Prokhor said: “This hair is special. Behind our forests and lakes, he says, there is a distant land. In that region, for the second year now, there has been no winter, no spring or summer, but only autumn. All year round there, he says, the forest stands leafless and black, and every day it rains inclemently. Lives in that country, he says, a girl named Masha, with golden braids. She is locked in an upper room, and she is guarded by three wolves with scarecrows and twenty-two badgers with sharp Cossack lances. This, he says, was her hair that fell into your hands. And with that hair, if you weave it into a belt, you can perform such miracles that you wouldn’t even dream of it.”

Someone chuckled behind Varya. Varya turned around and saw an old fat ground beetle. She squealed with laughter and wiped her watery eyes with her paw.

Why are you laughing? – Varya got angry. - Oh, don’t you believe me?

The ground beetle took a breath and stopped laughing.

It is truly said that the old are dumber than the young. Whatever your grandfather comes up with. It’s time for him to die, but all he has on his mind is self-indulgence.

“Grandfather Prokhor won’t talk in vain,” Varya answered. “You have no right to swear at your grandfather.”

“And you have the right,” the ground beetle hissed, “to clog up my sawyers’ problems with your basques!” Look, sit down and open your ears! I pay them three barley grains per day per day, and here they are, chilling out with conversations! Gentlemen have arrived!

How about three grains?! - the red-haired man shouted. - We dressed up for four. This, brothers, is deception! We do not agree to this!

Those who disagree! - all the men shouted.

Just think, how independent! - the ground beetle squeaked. - Three inches from the pot, in the rain all four of us hide under one mushroom, and make noise like full-sized men.

Oh, old woman! – The gray-haired man shook his head. “You probably pray every day, bow before the icon, and squeeze the sweat from the working people.”

The red-haired man spat, tore off his hat in anger, threw it on the ground, rolled up the sleeves of his army coat and approached the ground beetle.

Go away,” he said, “before I shake you in my own way!” Skvalyga!

Is that you?

Me? Ground beetle?

And then who!

Look, brother!

See for yourself! Will you leave? Oh no?

Well, well, don't swing!

Arya woke up at dawn and listened. The sky turned slightly blue outside the window of the hut. In the yard where the old pine tree grew, someone was sawing: zhik-zhik, zhik-zhik! The sawing was apparently done by experienced people: the saw ran smoothly and did not jam.

Varya ran out barefoot into the small entryway. It was cool there from the previous night.
Varya opened the door to the yard and looked in: under the pine tree, bearded men, each as tall as a small fir cone, were sawing dry pine needles with effort. The peasants placed pine needles for sawing on sawhorses made from cleanly planed wood chips.
There were four sawyers. They all wore the same brown army jackets. Only the beards of the peasants were different. One was red, another was black, like a crow's feather, the third was kind of like tow, and the fourth was gray.

Hello! – Varya said quietly. -Who are you going to be?

The fir-cone-sized men turned around and pulled off their hats.

“We are woodcutters from the Forest Prank,” they all answered at once and bowed to Varya from the waist.

“Don’t scold, mistress, that we’re sawing in your yard.” We agreed with the local ground beetle to prepare firewood for it for the winter, so we are trying.

Well,” Varya said affectionately, “try as much as you need.” I don't mind dry pine needles. And my grandfather Prokhor is somewhat deaf and blind, he doesn’t recognize anything.

That's right! - answered the gray-haired man, pulled out a dried dust mushroom from his bosom by the ribbon, poured small mushroom tobacco from it into a pipe and lit it. “If you, granddaughter, need anything around the house, we will do it instantly.” We have an artel. We take it inexpensively.

How much? - Varya asked and squatted down so that it would be easier for her to see the peasants and so that the peasants would not have to lift their heads when looking at Varya.

“It depends on the work,” the red-haired man answered willingly. “Let’s say, you need to hammer holes in the logs that were gnawed by woodcutter beetles.” And sealing those bugs tightly so that they don’t damage the hut is one price. This is difficult work.

Why is it difficult?

How - with what? All beetle passages must be peeled and sealed with putty. There are such moves that you can’t make it through. You'll tear up your entire coat and get wet. Fool her, with such work! For it you have to take two nuts for each person.

Two, not two, but one and a half nuts – the right price! – the gray-haired man remarked conciliatoryly. “We, granddaughter, can, for example, get into the walkers, clean all the mechanics with sandpaper and wipe with a rag. For this, of course, we charge by agreement - five kopecks, or even six.

Whatever you say,” the red-haired man got angry, “there’s nothing worse than collecting ant eggs.” You climb into an anthill, crawl around there, dust hits your nose, and the ants burn you! That's how they burn it! No matter how you grab it, you won’t be able to get it off!

Why are they collected, ant eggs? – Varya asked.

Nightingale food. We send them to the city. For sale.

“I, peasants,” said Varya, “have a job, but I don’t know how you will cope with it.” It would be necessary to collect the strongest, silkiest spider web, wash it in rainwater, dry it in the night wind before the morning star goes out, twist yarn from that web on a copper spinning wheel and weave a belt from that yarn. And put golden hair in it.

What hair? – the men were surprised.

You smoke, and I will explain to you.

The peasants leaned their ringing saws against a pine cone, sat down on a broken branch as if on a log, took out pouches and pipes, cleared their throats, lit a cigarette, and prepared to listen.

And Varya told them how she was walking home from a neighboring village, carrying bagels to grandfather Prokhor. And she met two sparrows in the forest. They jumped on the aspen, jumped on each other, and so dashingly that red leaves rained down from the branches. A wood mouse leaned out of a hole under an aspen tree and swore at the sparrows: “Oh, you, he says, are robbers! Why are you upholstering dry leaves from trees ahead of time? You have no conscience at all!”

It's right! - remarked a man with a beard that looked like tow. – The wood mouse doesn’t like fallen leaves. As soon as the leaves fall through the forests, she does not come out of her hole. He sits shaking.

How shoud I understand this? – asked the red-haired man. -What are you weaving?

Does a mouse run on the ground? Oh no?

Well, he's running.

And a raven or, say, a kite circles over the forest and watches over her. To grab and carry away. He's on guard, oh no?

Well, he's on guard.

So think about it. In summer, the mouse is buried in the grass and cannot be seen. And in the fall she runs along a dry leaf. The leaf cracks, rustles, moves - you can see it, this mouse, from afar. What a fool the crow is, and it will immediately catch it. It turns out that for safety the mouse needs to sit in the hole until the ground is covered with snow. She will then dig her own paths under the snow and run back and forth again. No eye will notice her.

That's it! - said the gray-haired man. - Every animal has its own thoughts. So, you say, granddaughter, those sparrows fought hard?

It was just terrible how they fought! – Varya sighed. – They tear a golden hair from each other’s beak. And I keep looking. It fell on a tree stump and rang. I grabbed that hair, put it in my bosom - and well, run! She came running home, and grandfather Prokhor said: “This hair is special. Behind our forests and lakes, he says, there is a distant land. In that region, for the second year now, there has been no winter, no spring or summer, but only autumn. All year round there, he says, the forest stands leafless and black, and every day it rains inclemently. Lives in that country, he says, a girl named Masha, with golden braids. She is locked in an upper room, and she is guarded by three wolves with scarecrows and twenty-two badgers with sharp Cossack lances. This, he says, was her hair that fell into your hands. And with that hair, if you weave it into a belt, you can perform such miracles that you wouldn’t even dream of it.”

Someone chuckled behind Varya. Varya turned around and saw an old fat ground beetle. She squealed with laughter and wiped her watery eyes with her paw.

Why are you laughing? – Varya got angry. - Oh, don’t you believe me?

The ground beetle took a breath and stopped laughing.

It is truly said that the old are dumber than the young. Whatever your grandfather comes up with. It’s time for him to die, but all he has on his mind is self-indulgence.

“Grandfather Prokhor won’t talk in vain,” Varya answered. “You have no right to swear at your grandfather.”

“And you have the right,” the ground beetle hissed, “to clog up my sawyers’ problems with your basques!” Look, sit down and open your ears! I pay them three barley grains per day per day, and here they are, chilling out with conversations! Gentlemen have arrived!

How about three grains?! - the red-haired man shouted. - We dressed up for four. This, brothers, is deception! We do not agree to this!

Those who disagree! - all the men shouted.

Just think, how independent! - the ground beetle squeaked. - Three inches from the pot, in the rain all four of us hide under one mushroom, and make noise like full-sized men.

Oh, old woman! – The gray-haired man shook his head. “You probably pray every day, bow before the icon, and squeeze the sweat from the working people.”

The red-haired man spat, tore off his hat in anger, threw it on the ground, rolled up the sleeves of his army coat and approached the ground beetle.

Go away,” he said, “before I shake you in my own way!” Skvalyga!

Is that you?

Me? Ground beetle?

And then who!

Look, brother!

See for yourself! Will you leave? Oh no?

Well, well, don't swing!

The ground beetle squeaked with anger and ran to the old stump - there she had a hole. As she ran, she turned around and shouted:

I won't forget this! You will repent!

They drank their own firewood for three barley grains. Praying Mantis!

The gray-haired man just shook his head.

So the ground beetle and I had a quarrel. This means we can dress up with you freely, granddaughter.
Tell me what your problem is.

What should I tell you? - Varya hurried. – Grandfather Prokhor says that the people in that country are severely hungry.

Known! - the man agreed with black beard. - How not to starve! Everything was wet and rotten. And nothing new will be born.

It’s also not sweet to eat fallen leaves,” added the red-haired man.

What a disaster! - sighed the man with a beard that looked like tow. “That means the little people are disappearing!”

Oh, and they disappear! – Varya sighed. - Oh, and they disappear, uncle! Like cabbage worms. And why? Because the men there are free and fair. A ruler came to them from a neighboring overseas country. Red-haired, angry, loud. And his eye is red from the vine. He came with his filthy army. And I wanted to take those men under my arm. But they did not give in. Then this ruler became terribly angry, quarreled, and trampled. “I, he screams, will kill you!” And autumn was visiting that country at that time. She looks like our village girl, and her name is Masha. Her hair is golden-gold, and she wears a sleeveless vest with squirrel fur. Time was already moving towards winter, it was time for autumn to leave for other countries, it was time to give way to the old woman to winter, but that was not the case! The ruler ordered his guards to seize Masha, not let her leave that country anywhere, and lock her in a strong hut for many years. “Let these obstinate people live with me without winter, spring and summer, without grain growing and without harvest,” he says. Probably, he says, in two or three years they will reconcile themselves, bow at my feet and ask for forgiveness.”

Soooo! - muttered the gray-haired old man. - So she’s in the dungeon, autumn.

“We need to free her,” Varya said.

We understand this without you! - the red-haired man shouted. - Loosen up! What a smart one you found! So you go and relax yourself. But how?

Grandfather Prokhor said that we should weave a belt with golden hair from the web and deliver it to Masha. As soon as she puts it on, the wolves will immediately fall to the ground, die, and the badgers will stab each other with their pikes. So I came up with an idea: would your team take up this matter? You are very inconspicuous. It doesn’t even cost you anything to get into the view.

The gray-haired man stood up, took off his hat, and asked:

Well, artel? Do we agree?

We agree! - all the men shouted.

On your grub?

On our own.

Then we’ll take a short rest, refuel and go.

Varya led the peasants into an empty hive that lay behind the hut, and for the first day she brought there the owner’s afternoon snack - a handful of fried oats and a piece of cottage cheese. The men ate heartily and leisurely, then took off their shoes and went to sleep before the difficult task. They covered themselves with their army coats and snored so much that even the bumblebees became quiet and began to listen: what kind of hum is that coming from the hive? Could it be that some enemy has climbed in there and is sharpening pine needles on a whetstone, so that with those needles he can fight them, the bumblebees?

The bumblebees listened and listened and flew into the pine forest to hide in the rotten stumps, just in case.

In the evening, when Grandfather Prokhor fell asleep, the peasants wound up the cobwebs that hung in the barn and in the entryway, washed it in a bucket of rainwater, dried it in the wind until the morning star went out in the dawn sky, twisted yarn from that cobweb on a copper spinning wheel and wove belt And they passed a golden hair through it.

“We should try the belt,” the peasants told Varya. - So that there is no embarrassment.
- Oh, guys! – Varya was scared. - How can you test it! Grandfather Prokhor says that in our human hands that belt can only do two miracles, no more. Then he loses his strength. And in Masha’s hands he will gain strength again and do everything.

“We don’t need much from him,” the men answered. – The closest route to the autumn region is through the Great Swamp. Yes, you know, you won’t get through there. There are swamps all around. They even suck in our brother, although we weigh nothing. Come with us to the swamp, ask for a belt so that he can build a bridge for us across that swamp. Once it builds, it means there is strength in it. If he doesn’t build it, it means there is no strength in him. And then there is no point for us to meddle in that autumn land. We will only annoy Masha and destroy ourselves.

Well, so be it! – Varya agreed. - Let's go!

The men tightened their belts, smoked one last time and left. Varya walked in front, and the peasants followed her, so that no matter what the hour, she would not step on one of them.
The peasants walked briskly, only going around the lingonberry bushes and diving under the ferns.
At dawn we approached the swamp. Varya took out the belt, tied it around her, and asked:

Belt, dear friend, build a bridge across the swamp!

Before she had time to say these words, green frogs emerged from the rusty water. There were a great many of them - maybe a thousand, or even all three.

The little frogs stretched out in a chain across the swamp, huddled close to each other, put their backs up and shouted:

Walk, men, boldly! We won't drown you!

Well! - the men said to Varya. - We should probably go. And you'll have to wait here. Give us a belt and goodbye!

Varya gave the belt to the peasants, and they left without even looking back. Why look around when you have to watch your step so as not to slip on a wet frog and fall headlong into a quagmire.

The peasants left, but Varya remained. She waited for the peasants until the evening, but they still weren’t there. Varya was frightened: had the peasants disappeared, had they run into wolves and badgers and they killed them all?

Varya thought and thought, and told grandfather Prokhor everything that happened.

Oh, you stupid thing! - said grandfather Prokhor. - Why can’t your peasants the size of a fir cone handle such a thing? They are tiny and undersized. Instead of strength, they have only stealth. Surely the guards caught them. Then these desperate men disappeared, and things would go badly for Masha.

What to do, grandfather? – Varya asked in fear.

“Convene the people,” answered the grandfather. - The whole world needs to get together and go to the rescue of your peasants and Masha. Run and call people to the pasture. With pitchforks, with scythes, with drekoly, and whoever has them, with shotguns.

Now, grandpa! – Varya shouted and jumped out of the hut.

And this is what happened to the peasants: when the sun rose and the fogs began to melt and thin, the peasants finally reached the autumn region, stopped on a sandy hillock, looked around for a long time and just sighed - they had never seen such a country in their lifetime.

The day, as luck would have it, turned out to be a fine day, and yellow forests stood to the very edge of the earth and rustled withered leaves.

All the forests were entangled in cobwebs, and dew hung on that cobweb.

The men drank the dew. Each of them had two drops, only the red-haired one drank all three. Then they wiped their mustaches and grunted: “Wow, the water is delicious!” And even then, the dew fell at night, and the night was autumn-cold, clear, shimmering with stars, breathing withered grass, and therefore in every dew drop there was hidden the chill of the night, the smell of grass and a quiet shine, like the reflection of a heavenly star.

It was clear from everything that autumn in this region was protracted and difficult. In the clearings, the wind swept so much rotten leaves that the peasants fell into it headlong - it was almost impossible to walk. The fields were brown and empty, and in the villages smoke from the stoves rarely streamed into the sky.
“It looks like the people here don’t have anything to cook anymore,” the peasants were talking quietly. - They ate everything clean. We walked through so many villages and never heard a cow moo or even a rooster crow. It's as if everything has died out. Give him free rein, this vile ruler, he will certainly devastate the whole earth and let the human race spread throughout the world.

The peasants walked, of course, with caution. As soon as they notice someone, they immediately hide. They were mostly buried in horse hoof marks.

The peasants were walking through the forest when, out of nowhere, a terrible wind suddenly struck, tore off all the foliage, swirled it around and carried it away in a torrential downpour. And he began to blow harder and harder, until he lifted the peasants into the air and carried them along with the leaves back to the Great Swamp. The men got scared, flew, grabbed branches. How can you resist such pressure!

The red-haired man turned over several times in flight and shouted:

This, brothers, is not without reason! The ruler sent the wind at us to push us back, to hinder us.

How did he find out about us? – shouted a man with a black beard.

The ground beetle lied to him and sent her hangers-on to him. They run faster than us.

Oh, friends! - shouted a man with a beard that looked like tow. - It takes us into the swamp. Let's drown ourselves! Grandfather, you have a belt with golden hair. Ask him. Maybe he'll save us.

The gray-haired man hastily pulled a belt out of his pocket, wrapped it around himself, and shouted:

Belt, my friend, stop the breeze!

Stop! That's not what you're asking! – the redhead shouted angrily. - Why on earth would we have to come back from the Great Swamp again and disfigure our legs? You ask the wind to turn back and carry us all the way to Masha.

The gray-haired man realized and shouted again:

Belt, be my friend, turn the breeze! Let it carry us right to Masha’s feet!

And then the wind howled, hummed, began to turn at full speed, blew up so many leaves towards the sky that they rushed over the ground like a red cloud, covering the sky.

Now the peasants are already flying where they need to go, but their souls are still restless. They hoped that the belt would help them defeat the wolves and badgers, but it didn’t work out that way. The belt has already performed two miracles - with frogs and the wind, but it will not do the third - it has already lost its power. Now only Masha can return this power to the belt. This means that they, the peasants, will have to fight the Guardian Machine not to the gut, but to the death.

Our peasants are flying, looking down, and forests, lakes, villages are rushing by, and you can see people running out of their houses and marveling at the leafy red clouds.

Soon the plank roof behind the forest began to shine, the wind began to subside and dropped the peasants into a clearing near the black picket fence.

The peasants were sitting, stupefied from the flight, and as soon as the wind died down, the leaf began to rain down on them, everything fell down, and soon it covered them all and covered them all. It's warm and safe under this sheet.

The peasants caught their breath and began to figure out how best to climb over the stockade and deceive the guards. Because whatever one may say, they couldn’t afford to fight now. The fight had to be delayed until the worst possible end.

They sit and talk all night, and in the morning they hear someone walking on a dry leaf, raking it, as if looking for something. The men looked at each other, and the red-haired one whispered:

Have you heard? They are looking for us.

What should we do? - the men ask.

“Out of all of you,” the redhead answers quietly, “I’m the most desperate.” I don't care!

It's right! – the men agreed. - There is a lot of despair in you.

And again, I’m a nimble person, hot. And my blow is very strong. As soon as I take an ax, I chop up a barley stalk in one fell swoop. And you beat for five minutes until you master that stem.

Well, - the men sighed. - and this, brother, is true.

And therefore,” the red-haired man said importantly, “give me that belt.” If something happens, I alone will fight off all the wolves and badgers.

Eh, Mitri! – the gray-haired man sighed. “I’ve become old and weak, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you that belt.” Yes, and I would have pulled you by the beard for your bragging. Take the belt.

The redhead took the belt, rolled it up, and put it in his bosom. At the same moment, the leaves rustled above the peasants’ heads and a rooster’s head poked out towards the peasants. The rooster's eye was angry, round, and his voice was hoarse - it is clear that the rooster's disposition is grumpy and rude. It's better not to mess with such a rooster.

What kind of bugs? - asked the rooster. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” And he didn’t peck. This is very interesting even to me!

The peasants started to run, but the rooster quickly raked up the leaves with his paws, and the gray-haired peasant, together with the black one and the one who had grown a beard that looked like tow, turned under the rooster’s paws, flew into the dust, and the rooster hit the red-haired peasant so hard on the back that he only gasped.

The rooster grabbed him by the coat, held him in his beak, rushed with a sweeping run to the stockade, squeezed through a hole between the logs, ran through the yard - and straight into Masha’s room, so that there he could peck at an incomprehensible beetle with a red beard in the freedom.

“Otherwise you start pecking in the yard,” the rooster thought, “the guards – the badgers – will immediately become attached: what kind of beetle is this, where did you get it, give it to us, why are you littering here with your beetle, yes?” You hit him with his beak and wake up the chief of our guard, a wolf named Fang, and we’ll get burned for it.”

The rooster ran across the yard past the guards, of course, at a trot, and entered Masha’s room with dignity: he would raise one paw, stand, step, raise the other paw, stand again... The rooster was courteous to Masha - she fed him crumbs every day.

The red-haired man's rooster threw him to the floor, and was just about to peck him harder when the red-haired man jumped up and rushed to Masha:

Save me, beauty!

Who are you? – Masha was scared.

“Yes, I’m kind of like your savior,” the red-haired man hastily answered, grabbed the hem of Masha’s dress, and looked around at the rooster.

And the rooster looks at him with one eye and approaches him from the side.

Masha stamped her foot on the rooster, the rooster flew up in the window, beat his wings, screamed, rushed into the yard and immediately began chatting with the badgers, telling them how he, the rooster, had goneoft - he almost pecked a man.

The badgers became alarmed and rushed to wake up the wolf, named Fang, but it was already too late.
The red-haired man pulled out a belt from his bosom and quickly thrust it into Masha’s hand.

She immediately girded herself with this belt, and the wolves immediately growled and died right away, and the badgers rushed to escape, but huddled together near the gate, because everyone, of course, wanted to get through it first.

The badgers crowded together, quarreled and began to fight. And they stabbed each other with sharp Cossack pikes.

Masha picked up the red-haired man from the floor, sat her in the palm of her hand, and he told her everything - about Varya, and about his comrades in the artel, and about how she and Varya agreed to free Masha-autumn from the ruler and return winter and spring to the people and summer, so that the earth will again begin to give birth to rich harvests.

Masha ordered the red-haired man to call everyone else to drink tea and relax. The redhead went out onto the porch and shouted:

Hey you weaklings! Come here before the bright, bright eyes of Masha the beauty! She wants to treat you to tea and will give each of you a hundred poppy seeds with fine sugar.
And so it was. The peasants came to the upper room, Masha seated them at the table, treated them to what she had promised, and the peasants looked at her with all their eyes: Masha was too beautiful - her braids were cast in such gold that the whole upper room glowed from them, her eyes were blue, like the skies over the rye fields, her voice is talkative, like a stream, and she is all thin, like a blade of grass.

If the rooster had not brought you, the red-haired one, in its beak,” asked Masha, “what would you have done?”
The peasants stood up at once, bowed at the waist to Masha, and answered:

The guards would fight for you, dear, until their last breath. Because while you are in captivity, there is no life for the people, but only bitter grief and cruel death.

Well,” said Masha, “now I’m free, and I need to leave quickly, to give way to winter.”

“That’s right,” the men agreed. - Thank you for the tea, for the affection. And we'll go.

Where to so soon?

We are not allowed. Work doesn't wait. Back in the summer, we agreed with our peasant society to take away all the grain that the field mice stole and hid in their holes, to take away from those mice and return it to its intended purpose. And this is hard work: in every hole there is a scandal, and sometimes there is a fight.

Well, if so, then go. Thank you and Varya very much. From myself and from people.

“It’s not worth your gratitude,” the men answered. - Be well, beauty of your honor!

The men took their leave and left. They had not even gone three hundred steps before the sky became cloudy and snow began to fall from those dark clouds.

Every hour, the snow became thicker, more plentiful, heavier. It was already hard to see the road through it. Everything around turned white, only the forest was still burning here and there with its last golden leaves above the snow.

The men felt cold. They walked faster, and at the very border of the autumn region they saw a large crowd of people in the distance. People walked with scythes, with pitchforks, with axes, with all sorts of woodcutters, and others kept old blued steel shotguns at the ready.
Ahead of the crowd, the peasants saw Varya. They recognized her by the blush on her cheeks and the red scarf draped over her head.

The peasants stopped, took off their hats in front of the company, and bowed at the waist.

Thanks for the help. Only we managed it ourselves, freed Masha-autumn from captivity.

All the people also took off their hats, thanked in return and congratulated the peasants with a fir cone on their complete success and began to invite them to the huts - to warm up and eat what God sent.

In each hut, the peasants were welcomed and treated to roasted nuts, sunflowers, poppy seeds, and raisins. And in one hut the peasants even drank a thimbleful of wine and ate pickled lingonberries.

Varya gave them some shag one last time, and the peasants, well-fed and drunk, went into the forest, where they lived in an old warm hollow, to rest before their new work.

They walked, looked around, bowed, and Varya waved her mitten after them and shouted:

Thank you, dears!

And so much snow was already falling from the sky that it was difficult to breathe. The only way to catch your breath from such snow was under the old spruce trees. But the peasants did not even think about hiding from the snow. They walked hugging each other, swaying, and sang their favorite song at the top of their voices to celebrate:

Here comes the postal troika
Along the pillar path.
And the bell - a gift from Valdai -
It hums sadly under the arc...

Varya looked after them and listened to the ringing song that faded away behind the veil of thick, gentle snow.

Varya woke up at dawn and listened. The sky turned slightly blue outside the window of the hut. In the yard where the old pine tree grew, someone was sawing: zhik-zhik, zhik-zhik! The sawing was apparently done by experienced people: the saw ran smoothly and did not jam.

Varya ran out barefoot into the small entryway. It was cool there from the previous night.
Varya opened the door to the yard and looked in: under the pine tree, bearded men, each as tall as a small fir cone, were sawing dry pine needles with effort. The peasants placed pine needles for sawing on sawhorses made from cleanly planed wood chips.
There were four sawyers. They all wore the same brown army jackets. Only the beards of the peasants were different. One was red, another was black, like a crow's feather, the third was kind of like tow, and the fourth was gray.

- Hello! – Varya said quietly. -Who are you going to be?

The fir-cone-sized men turned around and pulled off their hats.

“We are woodcutters from the Forest Prank,” they all answered at once and bowed to Varya from the waist.

“Don’t scold, mistress, that we’re sawing in your yard.” We agreed with the local ground beetle to prepare firewood for it for the winter, so we are trying.

“Well,” Varya said affectionately, “try as much as you need.” I don't mind dry pine needles. And my grandfather Prokhor is somewhat deaf and blind, he doesn’t recognize anything.

- That's right! - answered the gray-haired man, pulled out a dried dust mushroom from his bosom by the ribbon, poured small mushroom tobacco from it into a pipe and lit it. “If you, granddaughter, need anything around the house, we will do it instantly.” We have an artel. We take it inexpensively.

- How much? - Varya asked and squatted down so that it would be easier for her to see the peasants and so that the peasants would not have to lift their heads when looking at Varya.

“It depends on the work,” the red-haired man answered willingly. “Let’s say, you need to hammer holes in the logs that were gnawed by woodcutter beetles.” And sealing those bugs tightly so that they don’t damage the hut is one price. This is difficult work.

- Why is it difficult?

- How - with what? All beetle passages must be peeled and sealed with putty. There are such moves that you can’t make it through. You'll tear up your entire coat and get wet. Fool her, with such work! For it you have to take two nuts for each person.

- Two, not two, but one and a half nuts - the right price! – the gray-haired man remarked conciliatoryly. “We, granddaughter, can, for example, get into the walkers, clean all the mechanics with sandpaper and wipe with a rag. For this, of course, we charge by agreement - five kopecks, or even six.

“Whatever you say,” the red-haired man got angry, “there’s nothing worse than collecting ant eggs.” You climb into an anthill, crawl around there, dust hits your nose, and the ants burn you! That's how they burn it! No matter how you grab it, you won’t be able to get it off!

- Why are they collected, ant eggs? – Varya asked.

- Nightingale food. We send them to the city. For sale.

“I, guys,” said Varya, “have a job, but I don’t know how you will cope with it.” It would be necessary to collect the strongest, silkiest spider web, wash it in rainwater, dry it in the night wind before the morning star goes out, twist yarn from that web on a copper spinning wheel and weave a belt from that yarn. And put golden hair in it.

- What hair? – the men were surprised.

- You smoke, and I will explain to you.

The peasants leaned their ringing saws against a pine cone, sat down on a broken branch as if on a log, took out pouches and pipes, cleared their throats, lit a cigarette, and prepared to listen.

And Varya told them how she was walking home from a neighboring village, carrying bagels to grandfather Prokhor. And she met two sparrows in the forest. They jumped on the aspen, jumped on each other, and so dashingly that red leaves rained down from the branches. A wood mouse leaned out of a hole under an aspen tree and swore at the sparrows: “Oh, you, he says, are robbers! Why are you upholstering dry leaves from trees ahead of time? You have no conscience at all!”

- It's right! - remarked a man with a beard that looked like tow. – The wood mouse doesn’t like fallen leaves. As soon as the leaves fall through the forests, she does not come out of her hole. He sits shaking.

- How shoud I understand this? – asked the red-haired man. -What are you weaving?

- Is the mouse running on the ground? Oh no?

- Well, he’s running.

“And a raven or, say, a kite is circling over the forest and watching over her.” To grab and carry away. He's on guard, oh no?

- Well, he's on guard.

- So think about it. In summer, the mouse is buried in the grass and cannot be seen. And in the fall she runs along a dry leaf. The leaf cracks, rustles, moves - you can see it, this mouse, from afar. What a fool the crow is, and it will immediately catch it. It turns out that for safety the mouse needs to sit in the hole until the ground is covered with snow. She will then dig her own paths under the snow and run back and forth again. No eye will notice her.

- That's it! - said the gray-haired man. - Every animal has its own thoughts. So, you say, granddaughter, those sparrows fought hard?

- It’s just terrible how they fought! – Varya sighed. – They tear a golden hair from each other’s beak. And I keep looking. It fell on a tree stump and rang. I grabbed that hair, put it in my bosom - and well, run! She came running home, and grandfather Prokhor said: “This hair is special. Behind our forests and lakes, he says, there is a distant land. In that region, for the second year now, there has been no winter, no spring or summer, but only autumn. All year round there, he says, the forest stands leafless and black, and every day it rains inclemently. Lives in that country, he says, a girl named Masha, with golden braids. She is locked in an upper room, and she is guarded by three wolves with scarecrows and twenty-two badgers with sharp Cossack lances. This, he says, was her hair that fell into your hands. And with that hair, if you weave it into a belt, you can perform such miracles that you wouldn’t even dream of it.”

Someone chuckled behind Varya. Varya turned around and saw an old fat ground beetle. She squealed with laughter and wiped her watery eyes with her paw.

- Why are you laughing? – Varya got angry. - Oh, don’t you believe me?

The ground beetle took a breath and stopped laughing.

“It’s true what they say is that an old man is dumber than a young man.” Whatever your grandfather comes up with. It’s time for him to die, but all he has on his mind is self-indulgence.

“Grandfather Prokhor won’t talk in vain,” Varya answered. “You have no right to swear at your grandfather.”

“And you have the right,” the ground beetle hissed, “to clog my sawyers’ problems with your basques!” Look, sit down and open your ears! I pay them three barley grains per day per day, and here they are, chilling out with conversations! Gentlemen have arrived!

- How about three grains?! - the red-haired man shouted. - We dressed up for four. This, brothers, is deception! We do not agree to this!

- Those who disagree! - all the men shouted.

- Just think how independent they are! - the ground beetle squeaked. - Three inches from the pot, in the rain all four of us hide under one mushroom, and make noise like full-sized men.

- Oh, old woman! – The gray-haired man shook his head. “You probably pray every day, bow before the icon, and squeeze the sweat from the working people.”

The red-haired man spat, tore off his hat in anger, threw it on the ground, rolled up the sleeves of his army coat and approached the ground beetle.

“Go away,” he said, “before I shake you in my own way!” Skvalyga!

- Is that you?

- Me? Ground beetle?

- Who else?

- Look, brother!

- Look for yourself! Will you leave? Oh no?

- Well, well, don’t swing!

The ground beetle squeaked with anger and ran to the old stump - there she had a hole. As she ran, she turned around and shouted:

- I won’t forget this! You will repent!

— They drank their own firewood for three barley grains. Praying Mantis!

The gray-haired man just shook his head.

- So the ground beetle and I had a quarrel. This means we can dress up with you freely, granddaughter.
Tell me what your problem is.

- What should I tell you? - Varya hurried. – Grandfather Prokhor says that the people in that country are severely hungry.

- It is known! – the man with a black beard agreed. - How not to starve! Everything was wet and rotten. And nothing new will be born.

“It’s also not sweet to eat fallen leaves,” added the red-haired man.

- What a problem! - sighed the man with a beard that looked like tow. “That means the little people are disappearing!”

- Oh, and they disappear! – Varya sighed. - Oh, and they disappear, uncle! Like cabbage worms. And why? Because the men there are free and fair. A ruler came to them from a neighboring overseas country. Red-haired, angry, loud. And his eye is red from the vine. He came with his filthy army. And I wanted to take those men under my arm. But they did not give in. Then this ruler became terribly angry, quarreled, and trampled. “I, he screams, will kill you!” And autumn was visiting that country at that time. She looks like our village girl, and her name is Masha. Her hair is golden-gold, and she wears a sleeveless vest with squirrel fur. Time was already moving towards winter, it was time for autumn to leave for other countries, it was time to give way to the old woman to winter, but that was not the case! The ruler ordered his guards to seize Masha, not let her leave that country anywhere, and lock her in a strong hut for many years. “Let these obstinate people live with me without winter, spring and summer, without grain growing and without harvest,” he says. Probably, he says, in two or three years they will reconcile themselves, bow at my feet and ask for forgiveness.”

- Yes! - muttered the gray-haired old man. - So she’s in the dungeon, autumn.

“We need to free her,” Varya said.

- We understand this without you! - the red-haired man shouted. - Loosen up! What a smart one you found! So you go and relax yourself. But how?

“Grandfather Prokhor said that we should weave a belt with golden hair from the web and deliver it to Masha. As soon as she puts it on, the wolves will immediately fall to the ground, die, and the badgers will stab each other with their pikes. So I came up with an idea: would your team take up this matter? You are very inconspicuous. It doesn’t even cost you anything to get into the view.

The gray-haired man stood up, took off his hat, and asked:

- Well, artel? Do we agree?

- We agree! - all the men shouted.

- On your grub?

- On our own.

“Then we’ll take a short break, refuel and go.”

Varya led the peasants into an empty hive that lay behind the hut, and for the first day she brought there the owner’s afternoon snack - a handful of fried oats and a piece of cottage cheese. The men ate heartily and leisurely, then took off their shoes and went to sleep before the difficult task. They covered themselves with their army coats and snored so much that even the bumblebees became quiet and began to listen: what kind of hum is that coming from the hive? Could it be that some enemy has climbed in there and is sharpening pine needles on a whetstone, so that with those needles he can fight them, the bumblebees?

The bumblebees listened and listened and flew into the pine forest to hide in the rotten stumps, just in case.

In the evening, when Grandfather Prokhor fell asleep, the peasants wound up the cobwebs that hung in the barn and in the entryway, washed it in a bucket of rainwater, dried it in the wind until the morning star went out in the dawn sky, twisted yarn from that cobweb on a copper spinning wheel and wove belt And they passed a golden hair through it.

“We should test the belt,” the peasants said to Varya. - So that there is no embarrassment.
- Oh, guys! – Varya was scared. - How can you test it! Grandfather Prokhor says that in our human hands that belt can only do two miracles, no more. Then he loses his strength. And in Masha’s hands he will gain strength again and do everything.

“We don’t need much from him,” the peasants answered. – The closest route to the autumn region is through the Great Swamp. Yes, you know, you won’t get through there. There are swamps all around. They even suck in our brother, although we weigh nothing. Come with us to the swamp, ask for a belt so that he can build a bridge for us across that swamp. Once it builds, it means there is strength in it. If he doesn’t build it, it means there is no strength in him. And then there is no point for us to meddle in that autumn land. We will only annoy Masha and destroy ourselves.

- Well, so be it! – Varya agreed. - Let's go!

The men tightened their belts, smoked one last time and left. Varya walked in front, and the peasants followed her, so that no matter what the hour, she would not step on one of them.
The peasants walked briskly, only going around the lingonberry bushes and diving under the ferns.
At dawn we approached the swamp. Varya took out the belt, tied it around her, and asked:

- Belt, dear friend, build a bridge across the swamp!

Before she had time to say these words, green frogs emerged from the rusty water. There were a great many of them - maybe a thousand, or even all three.

The little frogs stretched out in a chain across the swamp, huddled close to each other, put their backs up and shouted:

- Walk, men, boldly! We won't drown you!

- Well! - the men said to Varya. - We should probably go. And you'll have to wait here. Give us a belt and goodbye!

Varya gave the belt to the peasants, and they left without even looking back. Why look around when you have to watch your step so as not to slip on a wet frog and fall headlong into a quagmire.

The peasants left, but Varya remained. She waited for the peasants until the evening, but they still weren’t there. Varya was frightened: had the peasants disappeared, had they run into wolves and badgers and they killed them all?

Varya thought and thought, and told grandfather Prokhor everything that happened.

- Oh, you stupid thing! - said grandfather Prokhor. - Why can’t your peasants the size of a fir cone handle such a thing? They are tiny and undersized. Instead of strength, they have only stealth. Surely the guards caught them. Then these desperate men disappeared, and things would go badly for Masha.

- What should we do, grandfather? – Varya asked in fear.

“Convene the people,” answered the grandfather. - The whole world needs to get together and go to the rescue of your peasants and Masha. Run and call people to the pasture. With pitchforks, with scythes, with drekoly, and whoever has them, with shotguns.

- Now, grandfather! – Varya shouted and jumped out of the hut.

And this is what happened to the peasants: when the sun rose and the fogs began to melt and thin, the peasants finally reached the autumn land, stopped on a sandy hillock, looked around for a long time and just sighed - they had never seen such a country in their lifetime.

The day, as luck would have it, turned out to be a fine day, and yellow forests stood to the very edge of the earth and rustled withered leaves.

All the forests were entangled in cobwebs, and dew hung on that cobweb.

The men drank the dew. Each of them had two drops, only the red-haired one drank all three. Then they wiped their mustaches and grunted: “Wow, the water is delicious!” And even then, the dew fell at night, and the night was cold, clear, like autumn, shimmering with stars, breathing withered grass, and therefore in every dew there was hidden the chill of the night, the smell of grass and a quiet shine, like the reflection of a heavenly star.

It was clear from everything that autumn in this region was protracted and difficult. In the clearings, the wind swept so much rotten leaves that the peasants fell into it headlong - it was almost impossible to walk. The fields were brown and empty, and in the villages smoke from the stoves rarely streamed into the sky.
“It looks like the people here don’t have anything to cook anymore,” the peasants were talking quietly. - They ate everything clean. We walked through so many villages and never heard a cow moo or even a rooster crow. It's as if everything has died out. Give him free rein, this vile ruler, he will certainly devastate the whole earth and let the human race spread throughout the world.

The peasants walked, of course, with caution. As soon as they notice someone, they immediately hide. They were mostly buried in horse hoof marks.

The peasants were walking through the forest when, out of nowhere, a terrible wind suddenly struck, tore off all the foliage, swirled it around and carried it away in a torrential downpour. And he began to blow harder and harder, until he lifted the peasants into the air and carried them along with the leaves back to the Great Swamp. The men got scared, flew, grabbed branches. How can you resist such pressure!

The red-haired man turned over several times in flight and shouted:

- This, brothers, is not without reason! The ruler sent the wind at us to push us back, to hinder us.

- How did he find out about us? – shouted a man with a black beard.

“The ground beetle lied and sent her hangers-on to him. They run faster than us.

- Oh, friends! - shouted a man with a beard that looked like tow. - It takes us into the swamp. Let's drown ourselves! Grandfather, you have a belt with golden hair. Ask him. Maybe he'll save us.

The gray-haired man hastily pulled a belt out of his pocket, wrapped it around himself, and shouted:

- Belt, my friend, stop the breeze!

- Stop! That's not what you're asking! – the redhead shouted angrily. - Why on earth would we have to come back from the Great Swamp again and disfigure our legs? You ask the wind to turn back and carry us all the way to Masha.

The gray-haired man realized and shouted again:

- Belt, be a friend, turn the breeze! Let it carry us right to Masha’s feet!

And then the wind howled, hummed, began to turn at full speed, blew up so many leaves towards the sky that they rushed over the ground like a red cloud, covering the sky.

Now the peasants are already flying where they need to go, but their souls are still restless. They hoped that the belt would help them defeat the wolves and badgers, but it didn’t work out that way. The belt has already performed two miracles - with frogs and the wind, but it will not do the third - it has already lost its power. Now only Masha can return this power to the belt. This means that they, the peasants, will have to fight the Guardian Machine not to the gut, but to the death.

Our peasants are flying, looking down, and forests, lakes, villages are rushing by, and you can see people running out of their houses and marveling at the leafy red clouds.

Soon the plank roof behind the forest began to shine, the wind began to subside and dropped the peasants into a clearing near the black picket fence.

The peasants were sitting, stupefied from the flight, and as soon as the wind died down, the leaf began to rain down on them, everything fell down, and soon it covered them all and covered them all. It's warm and safe under this sheet.

The peasants caught their breath and began to figure out how best to climb over the stockade and deceive the guards. Because whatever one may say, they couldn’t afford to fight now. The fight had to be delayed until the worst possible end.

They sit and talk all night, and in the morning they hear someone walking on a dry leaf, raking it, as if looking for something. The men looked at each other, and the red-haired one whispered:

-Have you heard? They are looking for us.

- What should we do? - the men ask.

“Out of all of you,” the redhead answers quietly, “I’m the most desperate.” I don't care!

- It's right! – the men agreed. - There is a lot of despair in you.

- And again, I’m a nimble person, hot. And my blow is very strong. As soon as I take an ax, I chop up a barley stalk in one fell swoop. And you beat for five minutes until you master that stem.

“Well then,” the men sighed. - and this, brother, is true.

“And therefore,” the red-haired man said importantly, “give me that belt.” If something happens, I alone will fight off all the wolves and badgers.

- Eh, Mitri! – the gray-haired man sighed. “I’ve become old and weak, otherwise I wouldn’t have given you that belt.” Yes, and I would have pulled you by the beard for your bragging. Take the belt.

The redhead took the belt, rolled it up, and put it in his bosom. At the same moment, the leaves rustled above the peasants’ heads and a rooster’s head poked out towards the peasants. The rooster's eye was angry, round, and his voice was hoarse - it is clear that the rooster's disposition is grumpy and rude. It's better not to mess with such a rooster.

- What kind of bugs? - asked the rooster. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” And he didn’t peck. This is very interesting even to me!

The peasants started to run, but the rooster quickly raked up the leaves with his paws, and the gray-haired peasant, together with the black one and the one who had grown a beard that looked like tow, turned under the rooster’s paws, flew into the dust, and the rooster hit the red-haired peasant so hard on the back that he only gasped.

The rooster grabbed him by the coat, held him in his beak, rushed with a sweeping run to the stockade, squeezed through a hole between the logs, ran through the yard - and straight into Masha’s room, so that there he could peck at an incomprehensible beetle with a red beard in the freedom.

“Otherwise you start pecking in the yard,” thought the rooster, “the guards – the badgers – will immediately become attached: what kind of beetle is this, where did you get it, give it to us, why are you littering here with your beetle, yes?” You hit him with his beak and wake up the chief of our guard, a wolf named Fang, and we’ll get burned for it.”

The rooster ran across the yard past the guards, of course, at a trot, and entered Masha’s room with dignity: he would raise one paw, stand, step, raise the other paw, stand again... The rooster was courteous to Masha - she fed him crumbs every day.

The red-haired man's rooster threw him to the floor, and was just about to peck him harder when the red-haired man jumped up and rushed to Masha:

- Save me, beauty!

- Who are you? – Masha was scared.

“Yes, I’m kind of like your savior,” the red-haired man hastily answered, grabbed the hem of Masha’s dress, and looked around at the rooster.

And the rooster looks at him with one eye and approaches him from the side.

Masha stamped her foot on the rooster, the rooster flew up in the window, beat his wings, screamed, rushed into the yard and immediately began chatting with the badgers, telling them how he, the rooster, had goneoft - he almost pecked a man.

The badgers became alarmed and rushed to wake up the wolf, named Fang, but it was already too late.
The red-haired man pulled out a belt from his bosom and quickly thrust it into Masha’s hand.

She immediately girded herself with this belt, and the wolves immediately growled and died right away, and the badgers rushed to escape, but huddled together near the gate, because everyone, of course, wanted to get through it first.

The badgers crowded together, quarreled and began to fight. And they stabbed each other with sharp Cossack pikes.

Masha picked up the red-haired man from the floor, sat her in the palm of her hand, and he told her everything - about Varya, and about his comrades in the artel, and about how she and Varya agreed to free Masha-autumn from the ruler and return winter and spring to the people and summer, so that the earth will again begin to give birth to rich harvests.

Masha ordered the red-haired man to call everyone else to drink tea and relax. The redhead went out onto the porch and shouted:

- Hey, you weaklings! Come here before the bright, bright eyes of Masha the beauty! She wants to treat you to tea and will give each of you a hundred poppy seeds with fine sugar.
And so it was. The peasants came to the upper room, Masha seated them at the table, treated them to what she had promised, and the peasants looked at her with all their eyes: Masha was too beautiful - her braids were cast in such gold that the whole upper room glowed from them, her eyes were blue, like the skies over the rye fields, her voice is talkative, like a stream, and she is all thin, like a blade of grass.

“If the rooster in its beak hadn’t brought you, red-haired one,” asked Masha, “what would you have done?”
The peasants stood up at once, bowed at the waist to Masha, and answered:

“We would fight for you with the guards, dear, until our last breath.” Because while you are in captivity, there is no life for the people, but only bitter grief and cruel death.

“Well,” said Masha, “now I’m free, and I need to leave quickly, to give way to winter.”

“That’s true,” the men agreed. - Thank you for the tea, for the affection. And we'll go.

-Where to so soon?

- We are not allowed. Work doesn't wait. Back in the summer, we agreed with our peasant society to take away all the grain that the field mice stole and hid in their holes, to take away from those mice and return it to its intended purpose. And this is hard work: in every hole there is a scandal, and sometimes there is a fight.

- Well, if so, then go. Thank you and Varya very much. From myself and from people.

“It’s not worth your gratitude,” the men answered. - Be well, beauty of your honor!

The men took their leave and left. They had not even gone three hundred steps before the sky became cloudy and snow began to fall from those dark clouds.

Every hour, the snow became thicker, more plentiful, heavier. It was already hard to see the road through it. Everything around turned white, only the forest was still burning here and there with its last golden leaves above the snow.

The men felt cold. They walked faster, and at the very border of the autumn region they saw a large crowd of people in the distance. People walked with scythes, with pitchforks, with axes, with all sorts of woodcutters, and others kept old blued steel shotguns at the ready.
Ahead of the crowd, the peasants saw Varya. They recognized her by the blush on her cheeks and the red scarf draped over her head.

The peasants stopped, took off their hats in front of the company, and bowed at the waist.

- Thanks for the help. Only we managed it ourselves, freed Masha-autumn from captivity.

All the people also took off their hats, thanked in return and congratulated the peasants with a fir cone on their complete success and began to invite them to the huts - to warm up and eat what God sent.

In each hut, the peasants were welcomed and treated to roasted nuts, sunflowers, poppy seeds, and raisins. And in one hut the peasants even drank a thimbleful of wine and ate pickled lingonberries.

Varya gave them some shag one last time, and the peasants, well-fed and drunk, went into the forest, where they lived in an old warm hollow, to rest before their new work.

They walked, looked around, bowed, and Varya waved her mitten after them and shouted:

- Thank you, dears!

And so much snow was already falling from the sky that it was difficult to breathe. The only way to catch your breath from such snow was under the old spruce trees. But the peasants did not even think about hiding from the snow. They walked hugging each other, swaying, and sang their favorite song at the top of their voices to celebrate:

Here comes the postal troika
Along the pillar path.
And the bell - a gift from Valdai -
It hums sadly under the arc...

Varya looked after them and listened to the ringing song that faded away behind the veil of thick, gentle snow.