Know about the wolf. Lagin Lazar Iosifovich. Old man Hottabych. IV. geography exam

“And now,” Volka said uncertainly, “if it doesn’t make it difficult for you… if you please… of course, if it doesn’t make it very difficult for you… In a word, I would very much like to find myself on the floor.”

At the same moment he was downstairs, next to old Hottabych, as we will call our new acquaintance for brevity. The first thing Volka did was grab his pants. The pants were completely intact.

Miracles began.

IV. GEOGRAPHY EXAM

- Command me! Hottabych went on, looking at Volka with devoted eyes. - Do you have any grief, Volka ibn Alyosha? Tell me and I will help you.

“Oh,” Volka threw up his hands, glancing at the alarm clock ticking briskly on his desk. - I'm late! I'm late for the exam!

- What are you late for, dearest Volka ibn Alyosha? Hottabych inquired matter-of-factly. - What do you call this strange word "ek-za-men"?

It's the same as testing. I'm late for school for tests.

“Know, O Volka,” the old man was offended, “that you do not appreciate my power. No no and one more time no! You won't be late for the exam. Just tell me what you like better: to delay the exams or to immediately be at the gates of your school?

“Be at the gate,” said Volka.

- There is nothing easier! Now you will be where you so eagerly reach out with your young and noble soul, and you will shock your teachers and your comrades with your knowledge.

With a pleasant crystal ringing, the old man again pulled out of his beard, first one hair, and then another.

“I’m afraid I won’t shock you,” Volka sighed judiciously, quickly changing into his uniform. - In geography, to be honest, I won’t get a top five.

- A geography exam? cried the old man, solemnly raising his withered, hairy hands. - A geography exam? Know, O most amazing of the amazing, that you are unheard of lucky, for I am richer than any of the jinn in knowledge of geography - I am your faithful servant Hassan Abdurrahman ibn Hottab. We will go with you to school, may its foundation and roof be blessed! I will invisibly suggest to you the answers to all the questions that will be asked of you, and you will become famous among the students of your school and among the students of all the schools of your magnificent city. And let your teachers only try not to honor you with the highest praises: they will deal with me! - Here Hottabych became furious: - Oh, then they will have a very, very bad time! I will turn them into donkeys that carry water, into stray dogs covered with scabs, into the most disgusting and vile toads - that's what I will do with them! .. However, - he calmed down as quickly as he got furious, - things will not come to pass, for everyone, O Volka ibn Alyosha, will be delighted with your answers.

“Thank you, Gassan Hottabych,” Volka sighed heavily. Thanks, but I don't need any tips. We, the pioneers, are fundamentally against hints. We fight against them in an organized manner.

Well, how did the old genie, who spent so many years in captivity, know the learned word "fundamentally"? But the sigh with which his young savior accompanied his words, full of sad nobility, confirmed Hottabych in the conviction that Volka ibn Alyosha needed his help more than ever.

“You make me very sad with your refusal,” said Hottabych. – And after all, most importantly, keep in mind: no one will notice my hint.

- Well, yes! Volka smiled bitterly. - Sergei Semyonovich has such a fine ear, I can't save you!

“Now you not only upset me, but also offend me, O Volka ibn Alyosha. If Ghassan Abdurrahman ibn Khottab says that no one will notice, then it will be so.

– Nobody-nobody? Volka asked to be sure.

- Nobody, nobody. What I will have the good fortune to suggest to you will go from my respectful lips straight into your highly esteemed ears.

Command me! Hottabych went on, looking at Volka with devoted eyes. - Do you have any grief, O Volka ibn Alyosha? Tell me and I will help you.

Oh, - Volka threw up his hands, glancing at the alarm clock ticking briskly on his desk. - I'm late! I'm late for the exam!

What are you late for, dearest Volka ibn Alyosha? Hottabych inquired matter-of-factly. - What do you call this strange word "ek-za-men"?

It's the same as testing. I'm late for school for tests.

Know, O Volka, - the old man was offended, - that you do not appreciate my power. No no and one more time no! You won't be late for the exam. Just tell me what you like better: to delay the exams or to immediately be at the gates of your school?

To be at the gate, - said Volka.

There is nothing easier! Now you will be where you so eagerly reach out with your young and noble soul, and you will shock your teachers and your comrades with your knowledge.

With a pleasant crystal ringing, the old man again pulled out of his beard, first one hair, and then another.

I’m afraid I won’t shock you,” Volka sighed judiciously, quickly changing into his uniform. - In geography, to be honest, I can’t get it to the top five.

Geography exam? cried the old man, solemnly raising his withered, hairy hands. - Geography exam? Know, O most amazing of the amazing, that you are unheard of lucky, for I am richer than any of the jinn in knowledge of geography - I am your faithful servant Hassan Abdurrahman ibn Hottab. We will go with you to school, may its foundation and roof be blessed! I will invisibly suggest to you the answers to all the questions that will be asked of you, and you will become famous among the students of your school and among the students of all the schools of your magnificent city. And let your teachers only try not to honor you with the highest praises: they will deal with me! - Here Hottabych became furious: - Oh, then they will have to be very, very bad! I will turn them into water donkeys, stray dogs covered with scabs, the most disgusting and vile toads - that's what I will do with them! However, - he calmed down as quickly as he got furious, - things will not come to this, because everyone, O Volka ibn Alyosha, will be delighted with your answers.

Thank you, Gassan Hottabych, - Volka sighed heavily. Thanks, but I don't need any tips. We - the pioneers - are fundamentally against prompting. We fight against them in an organized manner.

You make me very sad with your refusal,” said Hottabych. - And after all, most importantly, keep in mind: no one will notice my hints.

Well, yes! Volka smiled bitterly. - Sergei Semyonovich has such a fine ear, I can't save you!

Now you not only upset me, but also offend me, O Volka ibn Alyosha. If Ghassan Abdurrahman ibn Khottab says that no one will notice, then it will be so.

Nobody-nobody? Volka asked to be sure.

Nobody nobody. What I will have the good fortune to suggest to you will go from my respectful lips straight into your highly esteemed ears.

I just don't know what to do with you, Gassan Hottabych, - Volka sighed feignedly. - I really don't want to upset you with a refusal. Okay, so be it! Geography is not mathematics or Russian for you. In math or Russian, I would never settle for the smallest hint. But since geography is still not the most important subject. Well then, hurry up! Only. Here he took a critical look at the old man's unusual attire. - M-m-m-yes. How would you change your clothes, Gassan Hottabych?

Do not my clothes delight your eyes, O most worthy of the Voleks? Hottabych was upset.

They delight, certainly delight, - Volka answered diplomatically, - but you are dressed, how should I put it. We have a slightly different fashion. Your costume will be too conspicuous.

A minute later, Volka came out of the house in which the Kostylkov family had been living since that day, holding Hottabych by the arm. The old man was splendid in his new canvas jacket pair, the Ukrainian embroidered shirt, and the hard straw boater hat. The only thing he did not agree to change was the shoes. Referring to the calluses of three thousand years ago, he remained in his pink shoes with turned-up toes, which in their time would have probably driven the biggest fashionista at the court of Caliph Haroun al Rashid crazy.

And so Volka with the transformed Hottabych almost ran to the entrance of the 245th male high school. The old man looked coquettishly through the glass door, as if into a mirror, and was pleased with himself.

The elderly porter, who read the newspaper with authority, put it down with pleasure when he saw Volka and his companion. He was hot and wanted to talk.

Jumping several steps at once, Volka rushed up the stairs. The corridors were quiet and deserted - a sure and sad sign that the exams had already begun and that Volka, therefore, was late!

Where are you, citizen? the porter asked Hottabych benevolently, who was about to follow his young friend.

He needs a director! Volka shouted from above for Hottabych.

Sorry, citizen, the director is busy. He is in exams now. Please come by in the evening.

Hottabych frowned angrily:

If I may be allowed, O venerable old man, I would rather wait for him here. - Then he shouted to Volka: - Hurry to your class, Volka ibn Alyosha, I believe you will shake your teachers and your comrades with your knowledge!

Are you a grandfather to him, citizen, or what? - the doorman tried to strike up a conversation.

But Hottabych chewed his lips and said nothing. He considered it below his dignity to talk with the porter.

Permit me to offer you boiled water, - meanwhile the porter continued. - Heat today - God forbid.

Having poured a full glass from the decanter, he turned to serve it to the taciturn stranger, and with horror he was convinced that he had disappeared to no one knows where, as if he had fallen through the parquet. Shaken by this incredible circumstance, the doorman gulped down the water intended for Hottabych, poured and drained a second glass, a third, and stopped only when there was not a single drop left in the decanter. Then he leaned back in his chair and fanned himself with the newspaper in exhaustion.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, just above the doorman, in the sixth grade "B", an equally exciting scene was taking place. In front of a chalkboard hung with geographical maps, at the table, in a formal way covered with cloth, the teachers were seated, headed by the director of the school, Pavel Vasilyevich. In front of them sat sedate, solemnly fit students on their desks. There was such silence in the classroom that one could hear a solitary fly monotonously buzzing somewhere under the very ceiling. If the students of the sixth grade "B" always behaved so quietly, this would be by far the most disciplined class in all of Moscow.

However, it must be emphasized that the silence in the classroom was caused not only by the examination situation, but also by the fact that Kostylkov was called to the board, but he was not in the classroom.

Kostylkov Vladimir! repeated the headmaster, and cast a perplexed look at the hushed class.

It got even quieter.

And suddenly from the corridor came the booming clatter of someone's running feet, and at the very moment when the director proclaimed "Vladimir Kostylkov!"

Perhaps to the blackboard, - the director said dryly, - we'll talk about your lateness later.

I. I. I’m sick,” Volka muttered the first thing that came to his mind, and with an unsteady step approached the table.

While he was pondering which of the tickets laid out on the table he would choose, old Hottabych appeared in the corridor straight out of the wall and, with a preoccupied look, went through the other wall into the next classroom.

Finally, Volka made up his mind: he took the first ticket that came across, slowly, slowly, torturing his fate, opened it and was satisfied with the fact that he had to answer about India. He knew a lot about India. He has long been interested in this country.

Well, - said the director, - report.

The beginning of the ticket Volka even remembered word for word from the textbook. He opened his mouth and wanted to say that the Hindustan peninsula resembles a triangle in its outline, that this huge triangle is washed by the Indian Ocean and its parts: the Arabian Sea in the west and the Bay of Bengal in the east, that two large countries are located on this peninsula - India and Pakistan, that they are inhabited by a kind, peace-loving people with an ancient and rich culture, that the American and British imperialists are constantly trying on purpose to quarrel these two countries, and so on and so forth. But at that moment, in the next class, Hottabych leaned against the wall and laboriously muttered, putting his pipe to his mouth:

India, my venerable teacher.

And suddenly Volka, contrary to own will, began to smack absolutely utter nonsense:

India, my highly revered teacher, is located almost on the very edge of the earth's disk and is separated from this region by deserted and unexplored deserts, because neither animals nor birds live to the east of it. India is a very rich country, and it is rich in gold, which they do not dig out of the ground, as in other countries, but tirelessly, day and night, special, gold-bearing ants, each of which is almost the size of a dog, are mined. They dig their dwellings under the ground and three times a day they bring out gold sand and nuggets to the surface and put them in large piles. But woe to those Indians who, without due skill, will try to steal this gold! Ants chase them, and, having overtaken, they kill on the spot. From the north and west, India borders on a country where bald people live. And men and women, and adults and children - all bald in this country, and these eat amazing people raw fish and wood cones. And even closer to them lies a country in which one can neither look ahead nor pass, due to the fact that feathers are scattered there in innumerable multitude. The air and the earth are filled with feathers there: they interfere with seeing.

Stop, stop, Kostylkov! The geography teacher smiled. - No one asks you to talk about the views of the ancients on the physical geography of Asia. You tell the modern scientific data about India.

Oh, how happy Volka would be to present his knowledge on this subject! But what could he do if he no longer had power over his speech and his actions! Agreeing to Hottabych's prompting, he became a weak-willed toy in his benevolent but ignorant hands. He wanted to confirm that, of course, what he just said had nothing to do with the data. modern science But Hottabych behind the wall shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, shaking his head negatively, and here, in front of the examination table, Volka was also forced to shrug his shoulders and shake his head negatively:

What I have had the honor to tell you, O highly esteemed Varvara Stepanovna, is based on the most reliable sources, and there is no more scientific information about India than what I have just, with your permission, told you.

Since when did you, Kostylkov, begin to say “you” to the elders? - the geography teacher was surprised. - And stop fooling around. You're on an exam, not at a costume party. If you do not know this ticket, then it would be more honest to say so. By the way, what did you say about the earth's disk? Don't you know that the Earth is a sphere?!

Does Volka Kostylkov, an active member of the astronomical circle at the Moscow Planetarium, know that the Earth is a sphere?! Yes, any first grader knows this!

But Hottabych laughed behind the wall, and no matter how hard our poor fellow tried to tighten his lips, an arrogant chuckle escaped from Volka's mouth:

You deign to make fun of your most devoted disciple! If the Earth were a sphere, water would flow down from it, and people would die of thirst, and plants would wither. The earth, O most worthy and noblest of teachers and teachers, was and is in the form of a flat disk and is washed on all sides by a majestic river called "Ocean". The earth rests on six elephants, and they stand on a huge tortoise. This is how the world works, O teacher!

The examiners looked at Volka with increasing astonishment. He broke out into a cold sweat from horror and consciousness of his utter helplessness.

The guys in the class still couldn't figure out what had happened to their friend, but some of them started to laugh. It turned out to be very funny about the country of bald people, about the country filled with feathers, about gold-bearing ants the size of a dog, about flat earth resting on six elephants and one turtle. As for Zhenya Bogorad, Volka's bosom friend and his link, he was seriously alarmed. Someone, but he knew perfectly well that Volka was the headman of the astronomical circle, and in any case he knew that the Earth was a sphere. Did Volka suddenly decide to act hooligans for no reason, and where - at the exams! Obviously, Volka fell ill. But what? What kind of strange, unprecedented disease? And then, very sorry for the link. All the time they were the first in their performance, and suddenly everything goes topsy-turvy because of the ridiculous answers of Kostylkov, such a disciplined and conscious pioneer!

Here, Goga Pilyukin, who was sitting on the next desk, an unpleasant boy, nicknamed Pill by his classmates, hurried to pour salt on Zhenya's fresh wounds.

Your link is on fire, Zhenechka! he whispered, chuckling wickedly. - It burns like a candle! Zhenya silently showed his fist to Pill.

Varvara Stepanovna! cried Goga pitifully. - Bogorad is threatening me with his fist.

Sit still and don't talk to me,” Varvara Stepanovna told him, and again turned to Volka, who stood in front of her, dead and alive: “What are you talking about, are you serious about elephants and turtles?

More seriously than ever, O most venerable of teachers, Volka repeated the old man's hint, burning with shame.

And you have nothing to add? Do you really think that you are answering on the merits of your ticket?

No, I don’t have,” Hottabych shook his head there, behind the wall.

And Volka, languishing from helplessness before the force pushing him to failure, also made a negative gesture:

No I do not have. Except that the horizons in rich India are framed with gold and pearls.

Incredible! The teacher spread her hands. I could not believe that Kostylkov, a rather disciplined boy, and even at such a serious moment, decided for no reason at all to make such an absurd joke on the teachers, moreover, risking a re-examination.

In my opinion, the boy is not quite healthy, - she whispered to the headmaster.

Throwing sideways quick and sympathetic glances at Volka, speechless with anguish, the examiners began to confer in a whisper.

Varvara Stepanovna suggested:

But what if you ask him a question specifically to calm the boy down? Well, at least from last year's course. Last year he got an A in geography.

The rest of the examiners agreed, and Varvara Stepanovna again turned to the unfortunate Volka:

Well, Kostylkov, dry your tears, don't be nervous. Tell me what the horizon is.

Horizon? Volka rejoiced. - It's simple. The horizon is an imaginary line that

But Hottabych again began to stir behind the wall, and Kostylkov again fell victim to his prompting.

“Horizon, oh highly revered one,” he corrected, “horizon I will call that line where the crystal dome of heaven touches the edge of the Earth:

Time after time it doesn't get any easier! groaned Varvara Stepanovna. - How would you like to understand your words about the crystal dome of heaven: in the literal or figurative sense of the word?

Literally, O teacher, - prompted Hottabych from behind the wall.

And Volka had to repeat after him:

Literally, oh teacher.

Portable! someone hissed at him from the back bench.

But Volka said again:

Of course, literally, and in no other way.

So how? Varvara Stepanovna still couldn't believe her ears. - So, the sky, in your opinion, is a solid dome?

Solid.

And, then, there is a place where the Earth ends?

There is such a place, my highly esteemed teacher.

Behind the wall, Hottabych nodded his head approvingly and rubbed his dry palms with satisfaction. There was a tense silence in the classroom. The funniest guys stopped smiling. There was definitely something wrong with Volka.

Varvara Stepanovna got up from the table and anxiously felt Volka's forehead. There was no temperature.

But Hottabych, behind the wall, was moved, made a low bow, touched, according to Eastern custom, his forehead and chest, and whispered. And Volka, compelled by the same evil force, repeated these movements exactly:

Thank you, most generous daughter of Stepan! Thank you for your concern, but it's useless. It is superfluous, for, praise be to Allah, I am perfectly healthy.

Varvara Stepanovna affectionately took Volka by the hand, led her out of the classroom and stroked her drooping head:

Nothing, Kostylkov, do not lose heart. You seem to be a little overtired. Come back when you're well rested, okay?

Okay, Volka said. - Only, Varvara Stepanovna, honest pioneer, I'm not at all, well, not at all guilty!

And I don’t blame you for anything,” the teacher answered softly. - You know, let's look at Pyotr Ivanovich.

Pyotr Ivanych, the school doctor, listened and tapped Volka for about ten minutes, made him close his eyes, stretch out his hands in front of him and stand with spread fingers; tapped on his leg below the knee, drew lines on his naked body with a stethoscope.

During this time, Volka finally came to his senses. His cheeks reddened again, his mood lifted.

A perfectly healthy boy,” said Pyotr Ivanovich. - That is, I will say frankly: an extremely healthy boy! It must have been a little overtired. Overzealous before exams. And so healthy, healthy-oh-oh-ro-oh-s! Mikula Selyaninovich, and more!

This did not prevent him, just in case, from dripping some drops into the glass, and Mikula Selyaninovich had to swallow them.

And then Volka came up with a crazy idea. And what if it is here, in Pyotr Ivanych's office, taking advantage of Hottabych's absence, to try to pass the exam to Varvara Stepanovna?

No-no-no! Pyotr Ivanovich waved his hands. - I don't recommend it at all. Let it rest for a few days. Geography will not run away from him anywhere.

What's true is true, - the teacher said with relief, pleased that everything turned out so well in the end. - Come on, my friend Kostylkov, to the house, to the hut and rest. You will have a good rest - come and hand over. I'm sure that you will definitely pass on the top five. What do you think, Pyotr Ivanovich?

Such a rich man? Yes, he will never go for less than five plus!

Yes, that’s what,” said Varvara Stepanovna. "Wouldn't it be better if someone escorted him home?"

What are you, what are you, Varvara Stepanovna! Volka was alarmed. - I'll be fine on my own.

All that was missing was for the guide to come face to face with that tricky old man Hottabych!

Volka already looked quite well, and the teacher let him go home with a calm soul. The porter rushed towards him:

Kostylkov! Here grandfather came with you or whoever, so he is.

But just at that time old Hottabych appeared from the wall. He was cheerful, very pleased with himself, and hummed something under his breath.

Ouch! cried the doorman softly, and vainly tried to pour himself some water from an empty decanter.

And when he put the decanter back and looked around, neither Volka Kostylkov nor his mysterious companion was in the lobby. They had already gone outside and turned the corner.

I conjure you, my young lord, - Hottabych turned proudly, breaking a rather long silence, - did you shock your teachers and your comrades with your knowledge?

Shocked! Volka sighed and looked at the old man with hatred.

Hottabych grinned smugly.

Hottabych beamed:

I didn't expect anything else! And it seemed to me that this most venerable daughter of Stepan was dissatisfied with the breadth and completeness of your knowledge.

What are you, what are you! - Volka waved his hands in fright, remembering the terrible threats of Hottabych. - It just seemed to you.

I would have turned it into a deck on which butchers carve lamb carcasses, - the old man declared fiercely (and Volka was seriously scared for the fate of his class teacher), - if I had not seen that she did you the highest honor, escorting you to the very door class, and then almost to the very stairs! And then I realized that she appreciated your answers. Peace be with her!

Of course, peace be with her, - Volka hurriedly picked up, from whom it was as if a mountain had fallen off his shoulders.

For several millennia of his life, Hottabych dealt with sad people more than once and knew how to improve their mood. In any case, he was convinced that he knew: a person should be given something especially desired. Just what to give?

The case prompted him to make a decision when Volka turned to one of the passers-by:

Excuse me, please let me know what time it is.

The passer-by glanced at his wristwatch.

Five minutes to two.

Thank you, - said Volka and continued on his way in complete silence.

The silence was broken by Hottabych:

Tell me, O Volka, how did this pedestrian, without looking at the sun, determine the time so precisely?

You saw him look at his watch.

The old man raised his eyebrows in bewilderment.

For hours?!

Well, yes, for a watch, Volka explained. They were on his hand. So round and chrome.

Why don't you have such a watch - the most worthy of the genie saviors?

It’s still too early for me to have such a watch,” Volka replied humbly. - Haven't been out in years.

May I, O worthy pedestrian, be allowed to inquire what time it is now,” Hottabych stopped the first passerby he came across and fixed his eyes on his wristwatch.

Two minutes to two, - he answered, somewhat surprised by the unusual ornateness of the question.

Thanking him in the most refined oriental terms, Hottabych turned to Volka with a sly smile:

May I, O best of the Voleks, be allowed to ask you what time it is.

And suddenly, on Volka’s left hand, exactly the same watch as that citizen had, only not made of chrome steel, but of the purest pure gold, sparkled.

May they be worthy of your hand and your good heart- the old man said, touched, enjoying Volka's joy and surprise.

Then Volka did what any boy and any girl does in his place when they first find themselves the owners of a watch - he put the watch to his ear to enjoy its ticking.

Eee! he drawled. - Yes, they are not wound up. Gotta get them on.

Volka tried to turn the crown, but, to his great disappointment, it did not turn.

Then Volka took a penknife out of his pants pocket in order to open the lid of the watch. But with all his diligence, he could not find any signs of a gap where a knife blade could be inserted.

They are solid gold! The old man winked at him boastfully. - I'm not one of those who gives exaggerated gold things.

So they don't have anything inside? Volka exclaimed in disappointment.

Is there supposed to be something inside? - the old genie got worried.

Instead of answering, Volka silently unfastened his watch and returned it to Hottabych.

Okay, he agreed meekly. - I will give you a watch that should not have anything inside.

The golden watch was again on Volka's hand, but now it has become thin and flat. The glass on them disappeared, and instead of the minute, second and hour hands, a small vertical golden pin appeared in the middle of the dial with magnificent, the purest water emeralds, located where the hour markers were supposed to be.

No one, even the richest sultans of the universe, has ever had a wrist sundial! the old man boasted again. - There were sundials in city squares, markets, gardens, courtyards, and they were all built of stone. Here are the ones I just came up with. Really, is it good?

Indeed, it was quite tempting to be the first and only owner of a wrist sundial in the whole world.

Genuine pleasure was expressed on Volka's face, and the old man blossomed.

And how to use them? asked Volka.

But like this. - Hottabych carefully took Volkina left hand with newly invented clocks. - Hold your hand like this, and the shadow from this golden stick will fall on the desired number.

For this, the sun must shine,” said Volka, looking with annoyance at the cloud that had just covered the daylight.

Now this cloud will go away, - Hottabych promised, and the sun really shone with might and main again. - You see, the clock shows that the time is now somewhere between two and three o'clock in the afternoon. About half past two.

While he was saying this, the sun disappeared behind another cloud.

Nothing, - said Hottabych. “I will clear the sky for you every time you want to know what time it is.”

And in autumn? asked Volka.

What's in autumn?

And in autumn, and in winter, when the sky is hidden behind clouds for months on end?

I told you, O Volka, the sun will be free from clouds every time you need it. You will only have to order me, and everything will be all right.

What if you're not around?

I'll always be there, as soon as you call me.

And in the evening? And at night? Volka inquired maliciously. - At night, when there is no sun in the sky?

At night, people should indulge in sleep, and not look at the clock, - Hottabych answered in great annoyance.

It cost him a lot of work to pull himself together and not teach this stubborn lad a lesson.

Okay, he said meekly. - Then tell me, do you like the watch that you see on the hand of that pedestrian over there? If you like them, they will be yours.

That is, how is it so - mine? Volka was surprised.

Do not be afraid, O Volka ibn Alyosha, I will not touch him with a single finger. He himself will gladly give them to you, for you are truly worthy of the greatest gifts.

You make him, and he.

And he will be happy that I didn’t wipe him off the face of the earth, didn’t turn him into a mangy rat, a red cockroach cowardly lurking in the crevices of the last beggar’s hut.

Well, this is a form of extortion! Volka was indignant. - For such things we have, brother Hottabych, to the police and to the court. And rightfully so, you know.

Is this me on trial?! - The old man was pissed off in earnest. - Me?! Hassan Abdurrahman ibn Hottab? Does he, this most contemptible of pedestrians, know who I am?! Ask the first genie, or ifrit, or shaitan, and they will tell you, trembling with fear, that Ghassan Abdurrahman ibn Hottab is the lord of the genie bodyguards, and the number of my army is seventy-two tribes, and the number of fighters of each tribe is seventy-two thousands, and each of the thousand rules over a thousand marids, and each marid rules over a thousand assistants, and each assistant rules over a thousand shaitans, and each shaitan rules over a thousand jinn, and they are all obedient to me and cannot disobey me! No, no, let only this thrice the most insignificant of the insignificant pedestrians.

And the passer-by in question was calmly walking along the sidewalk, looking lazily at the shop windows, and was unaware of the terrible danger that hung over him at that moment only because the most ordinary Zenit watch gleamed on his hand.

Yes I. - Hottabych, completely dispersed, boasted in front of the dumbfounded Volka, - yes, I will turn him into.

The road was every second. Volka shouted:

Do not!

What is not needed?

It is not necessary to touch a passerby. You don't need hours! Do not need anything!

Do you need nothing at all? - doubted the old man, quickly coming to his senses.

The only wrist sundial in the world disappeared as unnoticed as it appeared.

Nothing at all,” Volka said, and sighed so heavily that the old man realized that the main thing now was to entertain his young savior, to dispel his bad mood.

IV. GEOGRAPHY EXAM

Command me! Hottabych went on, looking at Volka with devoted eyes. - Do you have any grief, O Volka ibn Alyosha? Tell me and I will help you.

Oh, - Volka threw up his hands, glancing at the alarm clock ticking briskly on his desk. - I'm late! I'm late for the exam!

What are you late for, dearest Volka ibn Alyosha? Hottabych inquired matter-of-factly. - What do you call this strange word "ek-za-men"?

It's the same as testing. I'm late for school for tests.

To be at the gate, - said Volka.

There is nothing easier! Now you will be where you so eagerly reach out with your young and noble soul, and you will shock your teachers and your comrades with your knowledge.

With a pleasant crystal ringing, the old man again pulled out of his beard, first one hair, and then another.

I’m afraid I won’t shock you,” Volka sighed judiciously, quickly changing into his uniform. - In geography, to be honest, I can’t get it to the top five.

Geography exam? cried the old man, solemnly raising his withered, hairy hands. - Geography exam? Know, O most amazing of the amazing, that you are unheard of lucky, for I am richer than any of the jinn in knowledge of geography - I am your faithful servant Hassan Abdurrahman ibn Hottab. We will go with you to school, may its foundation and roof be blessed! I will invisibly suggest to you the answers to all the questions that will be asked of you, and you will become famous among the students of your school and among the students of all the schools of your magnificent city. And let your teachers only try not to honor you with the highest praises: they will deal with me! - Here Hottabych became furious: - Oh, then they will have to be very, very bad! I will turn them into donkeys that carry water, into stray dogs covered with scabs, into the most disgusting and vile toads - that's what I will do with them! .. However, - he calmed down as quickly as he got furious, - before things will not come to pass, for everyone, O Volka ibn Alyosha, will be delighted with your answers.

Thank you, Gassan Hottabych, - Volka sighed heavily. Thanks, but I don't need any tips. We - the pioneers - are fundamentally against prompting. We fight against them in an organized manner.

You make me very sad with your refusal,” said Hottabych. - And after all, most importantly, keep in mind: no one will notice my hints.

Well, yes! Volka smiled bitterly. - Sergei Semyonovich has such a fine ear, I can't save you!

Now you not only upset me, but also offend me, O Volka ibn Alyosha. If Ghassan Abdurrahman ibn Khottab says that no one will notice, then it will be so.

Nobody-nobody? Volka asked to be sure.

Nobody nobody. What I will have the good fortune to suggest to you will go from my respectful lips straight into your highly esteemed ears.

I just don't know what to do with you, Gassan Hottabych, - Volka sighed feignedly. - I really don't want to upset you with a refusal ... Okay, so be it! .. Geography is not mathematics or Russian for you. In math or Russian, I would never settle for the smallest hint. But since geography is still not the most important subject ... Well, then let's go quickly! .. Only ... - Here he cast a critical glance at the old man's unusual attire. - M-m-m-yes-ah-ah ... How would you change clothes, Gassan Hottabych?

Do not my clothes delight your eyes, O most worthy of the Voleks? Hottabych was upset.

Delight, certainly delight, - Volka answered diplomatically, - but you are dressed ... how should I put it ... We have a slightly different fashion ... Your costume will be too conspicuous ...

And now Volka with the transformed Hottabych approached the entrance of the 245th male secondary school almost at a run. The old man looked coquettishly through the glass door, as if into a mirror, and was pleased with himself.

The elderly porter, who read the newspaper with authority, put it down with pleasure when he saw Volka and his companion. He was hot and wanted to talk.

Jumping several steps at once, Volka rushed up the stairs. The corridors were quiet and deserted - a sure and sad sign that the exams had already begun and that Volka, therefore, was late!

Where are you, citizen? the porter asked Hottabych benevolently, who was about to follow his young friend.

He needs a director! Volka shouted from above for Hottabych.

Sorry, citizen, the director is busy. He is in exams now. Please come by in the evening.

Hottabych frowned angrily:

Are you a grandfather to him, citizen, or what? - the doorman tried to strike up a conversation.

But Hottabych chewed his lips and said nothing. He considered it below his dignity to talk with the porter.

Permit me to offer you boiled water, - meanwhile the porter continued. - Heat today - God forbid.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, just above the doorman, in the sixth grade "B", an equally exciting scene was taking place. In front of the blackboard, hung with geographical maps, at the table, dressed like a dress, the teachers headed by the director of the school, Pavel Vasilyevich, were seated. In front of them sat sedate, solemnly fit students on their desks. There was such silence in the classroom that one could hear a solitary fly monotonously buzzing somewhere under the very ceiling. If the students of the sixth grade "B" always behaved so quietly, this would be by far the most disciplined class in all of Moscow.

Kostylkov Vladimir! repeated the headmaster, and cast a perplexed look at the hushed class.

It got even quieter.

And suddenly from the corridor came the booming clatter of someone's running feet, and at the very moment when the director proclaimed "Vladimir Kostylkov!"

Perhaps to the blackboard, - the director said dryly. We'll talk about your lateness later.

I... I... I'm sick, - Volka muttered the first thing that came to his mind, and approached the table with an unsteady step.

Well, - said the director, - report.

India, my revered teacher...

And suddenly Volka, against his own will, began to flog absolutely utter nonsense:

India, my highly revered teacher, is located almost on the very edge of the earth's disk and is separated from this region by deserted and unexplored deserts, because neither animals nor birds live to the east of it. India is a very rich country, and it is rich in gold, which they do not dig out of the ground, as in other countries, but tirelessly, day and night, special, gold-bearing ants, each of which is almost the size of a dog, are mined. They dig their dwellings under the ground and three times a day they bring out gold sand and nuggets to the surface and put them in large piles. But woe to those Indians who, without due skill, will try to steal this gold! Ants chase them, and, having overtaken, they kill on the spot. From the north and west, India borders on a country where bald people live. Both men and women, both adults and children, are all bald in this country, and these amazing people eat raw fish and tree cones. And even closer to them lies a country in which one can neither look ahead nor pass, due to the fact that feathers are scattered there in innumerable multitude. The air and the earth are filled with feathers there: they interfere with seeing ...

Stop, stop, Kostylkov! The geography teacher smiled. - No one asks you to talk about the views of the ancients on the physical geography of Asia. You tell the modern scientific data about India.

Oh, how happy Volka would be to present his knowledge on this subject! But what could he do if he no longer had power over his speech and his actions! Agreeing to Hottabych's prompting, he became a weak-willed toy in his benevolent but ignorant hands. He wanted to confirm that, of course, what he had just said had nothing to do with the data of modern science, but behind the wall Hottabych shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, shaking his head in the negative, and Volka here, in front of the examination table, was also forced to shrug his shoulders. and shake your head in the negative.

Does Volka Kostylkov, an active member of the astronomical circle at the Moscow Planetarium, know that the Earth is a sphere?! Yes, any first grader knows this!

But Hottabych laughed behind the wall, and no matter how hard our poor fellow tried to tighten his lips, an arrogant chuckle escaped from Volka's mouth:

The examiners looked at Volka with increasing astonishment. He broke out into a cold sweat from horror and consciousness of his utter helplessness.

The guys in the class still couldn't figure out what had happened to their friend, but some of them started to laugh. It was very funny about the country of the bald, about the country filled with feathers, about the gold-bearing ants the size of a dog, about the flat Earth resting on six elephants and one turtle. As for Zhenya Bogorad, Volka's bosom friend and his link, he was seriously alarmed. Someone, but he knew perfectly well that Volka was the headman of the astronomical circle, and in any case he knew that the Earth was a sphere. Did Volka suddenly decide to act hooligans for no reason, and where - at the exams! Obviously, Volka fell ill. But what? What kind of strange, unprecedented disease? And then, very sorry for the link. All the time they were the first in their performance, and suddenly everything goes topsy-turvy because of the ridiculous answers of Kostylkov, such a disciplined and conscious pioneer!

Here, Goga Pilyukin, who was sitting on the next desk, an unpleasant boy, nicknamed Pill by his classmates, hurried to pour salt on Zhenya's fresh wounds.

Your link is on fire, Zhenechka! he whispered, chuckling wickedly. - It burns like a candle! .. Zhenya silently showed his fist to Pill.