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out of the burdocks and stood still, craning her neck.
    "List-en!" shouted Vitalka  loudly and clearly.  "Catch the key!  Lock
the door! You must  lock the door! Then  run and get the  police! There're
some crooks in here!"
    The key  went whistling  downwards and  clanked loudly  as it  hit the
cobblestones. Vetka grabbed it fast.
    Down below there was some  cursing and trampling on the  boards. After
hearing about  the police,  our thieves,  who were  evidently still in one
piece, were making down towards the door.
    "Lock it quick!" yelled Vitalka. "Don't ask questions, just lock it!"
    We leant over the  railing as far as  we could but we  still could not
tell whether Vetka had managed to lock the door.
    There was a lot of crashing  and banging down below, but we  could not
even see  what Vetka  was doing  because she  was concealed  by the door's
overlapping.  It  felt  as  if  simply  ages  had gone by when she finally
appeared in the sunlight, waving the key and shouting, "Done it!"
    "Run and get the police!" yelled Vitalka.
    "What about you?"
    "We'll hang on! They won't get up here!"
    I don't know what Vetka  was thinking or what emotions  were expressed
on her  face because  she was  too far  away, but  without saying  another
word, she  tore off  towards the  monastery gates  and we  could hear  the
staccato tapping of her shoes fading away.
    Hollow blows rang  out below: it  was Edik and  Fedya pounding on  the
door.
    We lay down on the floor  and looked through the hole. After  being in
the sunshine, we could not  make anything out, but the  pounding continued
and someone shouted, "Open up! You rats! We'll get you!"
    I smirked. My fear had vanished for I was sure they would not get  us.
How could  they? They  couldn't get  up here  because we  had wrecked  the
floor down  below. And  if they  did, say,  would they  really dare  lay a
finger on  us? They'd  get into  even more  trouble if  they did! And they
couldn't escape because you  could only break down  a door like that  with
the help of a cannon! How cleverly Vitalka had worked everything out!
    I glanced at him and saw he  was smiling and the freckles on his  hose
were shining  like rubbed  brass. Mind  you, he  also had  a bruise on his
nose, and soot  on his cheeks  and a hole  in his shirt  through which his
scratched tummy was showing.
    "You look grand!" I said.
    "You're not bad either,"  he replied jovially. "Auntie  Valya's really
going to lay into us!"
    I sat down  on the edge  of the hole  and, casually dangling  my legs,
started whistling a song from the film "The Last Inch":

                   In a far-off northern country
                   Where the winter's long and grim,
                   Splashing in the freezing water
                   is
                   a
                   tiny little
                   seal!

    "Whistling,  are  you?"  someone  asked  loudly below. "Well, just you
wait, you pests!"
    I  was  at  once  seized  with  fear  again, but Vitalka remarked in a
matter-of-fact manner, "Looks as if they're coming up here again..."
    He  went  up  to  the  railing,  grabbed  hold of a baluster and began
rocking it to and  fro. As it was  obviously rotten, it soon  gave way and
cracked.
    "Help me," said Vitalka.
    I quickly came to his aid and we pulled the shoulder-high post out  of
its base,  and then  did the  same with  another two  but that  was all we
could manage.
    Balancing it in his arms,  Vitalka said thoughtfully, "It makes  quite
a good club."
    Then we heard hushed voices and heavy breathing down below and  looked
through the  hole again.   We saw  Fedya and  Edik making  a ladder out of
broken beams on the third floor.
    Edik looked up. A ray of light from a loophole fell on his face and  I
was paralysed with fear. His face was really terrifying.
    "Well, kiddies, you've  had it. We're  going to make  mincemeat out of
you," he said hoarsely, and I saw  that he was holding a long thin  knife.
Why, it was mine! The one I'd dropped down the hole that first night!
    For the first time  Vitalka gave me anxious  look.  We were  really in
trouble. The crooks  were evidently so  desperate that they  would stop at
nothing.
    The most  natural thing  for us  to do  now would  have been  to start
screaming with  fear at  the top  of our  voices.   To this  very day I am
proud that I  didn't.  And  neither did Vitalka.   Instead, he jumped  up,
grabbed a baluster and hurled it at the crooks like a torpedo.
    But it missed, bounced off a beam and crashed downwards.
    The two  crooks went  on climbing  up without  even glancing  at it. I
grabbed hold of another baluster.
    "Wait. We've got to save our ammunition," said Vitalka gravely.
    We had made a  mistake. We should have  gone down to the  fourth floor
and  repulsed  our  enemies  while  they  were  crawling  shakily up their
makeshift ladder. But  we had stayed  at the top  expecting a blue  police
car to race into  monastery yard at any  moment as it always  happens in a
good film.
    But there was no help coming  down below and only the tiny  figures of
pedestrians flashed by in  nearby streets. But we  could not call to  them
for help because they were too far away...
    I  have  no  idea  how  much  time  passed  but probably not very much
because the clock had  not struck once since  our enemies appeared in  the
belfry. It seemed to us, however, as if we had been up there all day.
    Edik and Fedya  climbed up to  the fourth floor  and we lost  sight of
them behind a pile  of wrecked beams and  floorboards and could only  hear
them swearing in hushed voices.
    And these hushed voices gave me the shivers.
    At long last Fedya's  fair head popped up  over the hatch. I  aimed my
"torpedo" at him and he yelled and  vanished.  There was a loud thud  down
below.
    "He'll have a fine bump!" said Vitalka gleefully.
    But  there  was  no  time  to  celebrate  because  at that moment Edik
crashed his way through the planks and up the hatch. He was scratched  and
torn and in a  tearing rage. What's more,  he was holding my  knife in his
fist.
    All that was between  us now was one  floor and a strong  ladder which
you could not possibly wreck.
    Vitalka  stood  over  the  hatch,  straddling  his  legs,  raised  his
"torpedo" and said shrilly, "Just you try coming near me, you thug..."
    I looked  round for  a weapon  such as  a stick  or a  stone but there
weren't any! And there was still nobody in sight!
    And even if we  screamed at the top  of our voices, would  anyone hear
us?
    However, despite the danger, I  could not scream for some  reason. No,
I could not imagine myself shrieking "help" right across the town!
    But what about striking  a bell? I jumped  onto the railing and  tried
to reach the bell  hanging in the arched  aperture. The largest one  still
intact, it could certainly make a really startling din...
    But how  could I  reach it?   A thick  rope had  been attached  to its
cast-iron  tongue  but  all  that  was  left  of it now was a rotten scrap
hanging about two metres above us.
    I held onto a brick projection  and stood upright on the railing.  All
of  a  sudden  the  brick  moved  under  my  fingers.  The  projection had
obviously been damaged in the blast forty years ago.
    Afraid to lose my  balance, I jumped down  onto the floor and  a brick
fell at my feet and broke into three pieces.
    I grabbed one, took aim and hurled it at the bell as hard as I  could!
Dong!..
    And again! Dong!..
    My ears  became blocked  and although  I could  see Vitalka was saying
something to me, I could not hear a  word. I felt just as if the bell  had
fallen and covered  me with its  booming dome. I  squatted, shook my  head
and picked the third bit of the brick off the floor.
    Dong!..
    I  needed  more  stones.  I  jumped  back  onto  the railing and began
pulling at  a brick,  but it  would not  budge. My  fingers slipped  and I
almost lost my balance, but straining  my muscles hard, I managed to  hang
on. I glanced down in desperation.
    Our  magic  carpet  was  rising  swiftly  towards  us.  Breezy   stood
intrepidly on it, his green shirt flapping in the wind.
    "Vitalka! The carpet!" I yelled without hearing myself.
    The carpet with its pilot hovered on a level with the banisters.
    Vitalka spun  round and,  grinning from  ear to  ear, threw his weapon
down the hatch, roared with laughter and rushed towards us.

    We  flew  down  fast,  keeping  close  to the belfry, skimmed over the
cobblestones, scaled the  wall, slipped behind  the steep bank  and landed
on a secluded ledge among tall weeds.
    My ears were  still buzzing, and  at first I  could not make  out what
Breezy was saying in an excited  and breathless voice: "... trod on  a bit
of glass and was limping... And she told me to fetch the police fast!  But
what if the thugs got hold of you in the meantime, I thought. So I  dashed
over to get the carpet!"
    "So you've learnt how to fly it!" exclaimed Vitalka joyfully.
    Breezy smiled and said, "I didn't  even think about it. I just  had to
rescue you. I climbed  over the roof to  your watchtower, dragged it  out,
unrolled it and  shouted, 'Off we  go!' And then  I just flew  off as if I
wasn't even on it... But when I looked down I saw the carpet under me."
    "Did anyone spot you?" Vitalka asked.
    Breezy shook his head.
    "I didn't fly  straight. I first  headed for the  river and then  kept
behind the steep bank. I know what I'm doing, you know."
    "What do you know?" asked Vitalka. "You don't know anything! You  have
no idea what a fantastic fellow you are!"
    He slapped  Breezy on  the back  and laughing  loudly, pushed him onto
the carpet. And then  I burst out laughing,  too, and collapsed in  a heap
on top of them. And we  rolled about, shrieking with joy until  we tumbled
off  the  carpet  into  the  weeds.  Then  we  calmed down and fell silent
because we suddenly remembered about Vetka cutting her foot.
    "Has she cut it badly?" Vitalka asked.
    "Not very," Breezy replied.  "She just can't run very fast...   What's
that? Up there. Can you hear?"
    It was the horns and sirens  of police cars blaring louder and  louder
as they raced towards the tower.


                            Chapter Seventeen

    We never did find  out what exactly happened  to Edik and Fedya.   All
sorts of fantastic rumours were  spread around the town, and  someone even
said that a band of thieves had set up their den in the belfry and  stored
huge quantities  of gold  and weapons  there. According  to many versions,
there had been a shoot-out between the crooks and the policemen. Some  old
women whispered that the  large bell struck all  by itself to make  people
remember their sins and  catch the thieves in  the belfry while they  were
at it.
    Vitalka, Vetka, Breezy and I listened to these stories and laughed  up
our sleeves. True, we sometimes  felt rather scared about someone  finding
out about the carpet, but nobody ever did.
    It was a  good thing that  Auntie Valya and  Mum disliked rumours  and
gossip, or else they would have  quickly quessed that we simply had  to be
involved in the belfry incident.
    And we  even felt  rather sorry  for Edik  and Fedya  when we imagined
them telling the  police about the  two boys who  had climbed right  up to
the  bells  and  then  suddenly  vanished  into  thin air. And, of course,
nobody believed  them! It's  terrible when  you're telling  the truth  and
nobody believes you.
    A  few  days  later  the  rumours  began  to  die  down,  and the town
gradually  forgot  about  the  mysterious  episode,  but the clock went on
working...
    After our  adventure on  the belfry  we did  not fly  for a  long time
because of the rains. First came warm showers, which caused steam to  rise
from the cobblestones and made  splashes like glass crowns as  they danced
on the  puddles. Then  the rain  began pouring  steadily down, the puddles
grew darker, and  little bubbles began  floating to the  surface like tiny
electric light bulbs. This meant we were in for a long spell of rain.
    We were never bored, though, because we used to set out our  cardboard
armies  and  organise  battles  which,  even  through the carpet, made the
trimmings on Auntie Valya's chandelier jingle wildly.
    Breezy and Vetka  used to run  in, wet and  cheerful, and join  in our
battles.
    Then Breezy  brought "The  Three Musketeers"  over. It  was a new copy
and its  covers decorated  with dark  crossed swords  creaked slightly and
smelt of  glue and  calico. And  such wonderful  adventures were inside it
that we  could not  put it  down for  hours on  end. We  used to  sit in a
circle on the carpet like nomads round a camp-fire and take turns  reading
it aloud, and then everything else  in the world ceased to exist.  One day
after such a reading session I tried to get up too quickly and crashed  to
the floor because my legs had gone to sleep without me realising it.
    In the evenings  Vitalka worked on  his pictures from  the musketeers'
life, depicting dark  houses with little  yellow windows, a  large moon, a
hunch-backed bridge  and riders  in hats  and feathers,  streaming in  the
wind.   Vitalka's horses  were not  very good  and looked  more like large
dogs but everything else he drew beautifully.
    And I planed  some thin musketeer  swords and made  guards out of  tin
cans.
    All this time  the magic carpet  dozed on the  floor between our  beds
just like any ordinary carpet.
    Towards the  middle of  August the  rains stopped  and it became sunny
and windy again but not as  warm as before. Small dark clouds  with fluffy
golden edges came scudding from the north, and although beautiful, such  a
cold sky was not tempting to fly in.
    It  was  only  at  the  very  end  of  the  month that summer returned
bringing serene warm days, fluffy  seeds and cobwebs floating through  the
air  and  the  heady  perfumes  of  overripe  grass.  The  school term was
approaching fast.
    On the  thirty-first of  August we  were summoned  to a school meeting
and  lined  up  in  classes  in  the  yard.   Then  our head-teacher, Vera
Severyanovna, made a speech from the porch, and told us that we must  work
particularly well that coming year. She said it at the beginning of  every
school year.  Nobody  could explain why she  called every new school  year
special and  why we  were supposed  to have  done worse  last year than we
would in  the next.   However, nobody  ever asked  Vera Severyanovna  that
because they did not dare to.
    You could not say  she was very sharp-tempered,  it was just that  she
always seemed dissatisfied. Large  and heavily-built with very  light hair
namely (but not grey) and a  fluffy scarf on her shoulders, she  paced the
corridors like a  large snowman, catching  culprits. In her  opinion, if a
person had not done anything naughty yet, he was bound to sooner or  later
and the same applied if he had  not yet received a bad mark. She  made the
culprits stand by a wall all through break and took the "worst  offenders"
off  to  her  office  where  she  scolded  them  in  a monotonous tone and
summoned their parents.
    To make up for  it, we were very  lucky with our teachers.  My teacher

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