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Having entered into the scorched grove, he almost has come across at once on three persons.
One, huge, crept, coiling, as a worm, clinging to roughnesses of soil, and dragged on itself the second, wound with dirty rags,
motionless, helpless and become soft. The third crept after them. Round its waist the belt loop has been tightened, the belt
end reached for the forward. They crept directly on the fallen asleep navigator. And Michael Antonovich who has
unexpectedly lost a voice, choking with horror and pleasure, has seen, how that uzhom crept ahead, with scope has hit a
head in a silvery helmet about a tree trunk, has moaned and has spread around, further – it is persistent, furious…
Michael Antonovich at last has cried and has rushed to them. Then forward with surprising speed has risen on knees, in its
hands the automatic machine has shot up.
- Who? – He has croaked.
- Alexey! – Michael Antonovich has cried and has fallen nearby to knees, has nestled, has begun to cry heavy, malicious and
joyful tears…
Under its boot, pressed into a dust, the sheet of paper – once white, now zaljapannyj with a yellow dirt, crushed, with
fragmentary shaggy edges has rustled. But on it still it was possible to distinguish and a black flat cake of Golconda, both a
bog ring, and a small red circle jugo-to the east a mud crater. If Michael Antonovich knew own co-ordinates, he would see at
once that “Hius” costs in this circle. Anatoly Borisovich Ermakov, the commander of the best in the world planetoleta, was
mistaken seldom. He here again was mistaken only on some kilometres…
When Bulls were terminated by the story, Michael Antonovich zaplakal: – Companions! Native you mine! Bogdan, Ermakov…
- Large fast droplets ran on its thick kind cheeks, jammed in a bristle lasting many days.
- It is not necessary… To cry, – has hardly spoken Jurkovsky.
It lay in an armchair near to the matte-white closed cylinder where dozed, floating in the curative solution, exhausted with
bandagings and pricks naked Ioganych.