“I came to find out if you need anything, sister. Papa’s angry and has forbidden the whole household to obey you, but tell me and I’ll do whatever you like.”
“Thank you, my dear Sashenka. Listen: you know the old oak with the hollow that’s by the gazebo?”
“I do, sister.”
“Then if you love me, run there quickly and put this ring into the hollow, and make sure nobody sees you.”
With those words she tossed him the ring and closed the window.
The boy picked up the ring, set off running as fast as he could, and in three minutes reached the secret tree. There he stopped for breath, looked all around, and put the ring into the hollow. Having done his job successfully, he wanted to report at once to Marya Kirilovna, when suddenly a ragged boy, red-haired and squint-eyed, shot from behind the gazebo, dashed to the oak tree, and thrust his hand into the hollow. Sasha rushed at him quicker than a squirrel and caught hold of him with both hands.
“What are you doing here?” he said menacingly.
“None of your business!” the boy replied, trying to free himself.
“Leave that ring alone, you red-haired rat,” Sasha shouted, “or I’ll teach you what’s what.”
Instead of an answer, the boy punched him in the face with his fist, but Sasha did not let go and shouted at the top of his voice: “Thieves, thieves, help, help…”
The boy tried to break free of him. He was apparently a couple of years older than Sasha and much stronger, but Sasha was more nimble. They struggled for several minutes, and the red-haired boy finally won. He threw Sasha to the ground and took him by the throat.
But just then a strong hand seized his red and bristling hair, and the gardener Stepan lifted him a foot off the ground…
“Ah, you red-haired rascal,” the gardener said. “How dare you beat the young master…”
Sasha had time to jump up and brush himself off.
“You grabbed me under the arms, otherwise you’d never have thrown me down. Give me back the ring and get out of here.”
“Nohow,” the redhead replied and, suddenly twisting around, freed his bristles from Stepan’s hand. Then he broke into a run, but Sasha caught up with him, shoved him in the back, and the boy went sprawling. The gardener seized him again and bound him with his belt.
“Give me the ring!” Sasha shouted.
“Wait, master,” said Stepan. “We’ll take him to the steward and he’ll deal with him.”
The gardener led the prisoner to the manor yard, and Sasha went with them, casting worried glances at his torn and grass-stained trousers. Suddenly the three of them found themselves in front of Kirila Petrovich, who was on his way to inspect the stables.
“What’s this?” he asked Stepan.
Stepan briefly described the whole incident. Kirila Petrovich listened to him attentively.
“You scapegrace,” he said, turning to Sasha. “Why did you have anything to do with him?”
“He stole the ring from the hollow, papa. Tell him to give back the ring.”
“What ring, from what hollow?”
“The one Marya Kirilovna…the ring she…”
Sasha became embarrassed, confused. Kirila Petrovich frowned and said, shaking his head:
“So Marya Kirilovna’s mixed up in it. Confess everything, or I’ll give you such a birching you won’t know who you are.”
“By God, papa, I…Marya Kirilovna didn’t tell me to do anything, papa…”
“Stepan, go and cut me a good, fresh birch rod…”
“Wait, papa, I’ll tell you everything. Today I was running around in the yard, and my sister Marya Kirilovna opened the window, I ran over, and my sister accidentally dropped a ring, and I hid it in the hollow, and…and this red-haired boy wanted to steal it.”
“She accidentally dropped it, and you wanted to hide it…Stepan, fetch the rod.”
“Papa, wait, I’ll tell you everything. My sister Marya Kirilovna told me to run to the oak and put the ring in the hollow, so I ran and put the ring in it, and this nasty boy…”
Kirila Petrovich turned to the nasty boy and asked menacingly: “Whose are you?”
“I’m a household serf of the Dubrovskys,” replied the red-haired boy.
Kirila Petrovich’s face darkened.
“So it seems you don’t recognize me as your master. Fine,” he replied. “And what were you doing in my garden?”
“Stealing raspberries,” the boy replied with great indifference.
“Aha, servant and master, like priest, like parish. Do my raspberries grow on oak trees?”
The boy made no reply.
“Papa, tell him to give back the ring,” said Sasha.
“Quiet, Alexander,” replied Kirila Petrovich. “Don’t forget, I still intend to settle with you. Go to your room. And you, squint-eye, you seem bright enough. Give me the ring and go home.”
The boy opened his fist and showed that he had nothing in his hand.
“If you confess everything to me, I won’t thrash you, and I’ll give you five kopecks for nuts. If not, I’ll do something to you that you’d never expect. Well?”
The boy did not say a word and stood there, hanging his head and giving himself the look of a real little fool.
“Fine,” said Kirila Petrovich. “Lock him up somewhere and see that he doesn’t escape, or I’ll skin the whole household alive.”
