Fairy tales were in Prishvina's pantry of the sun. A brief retelling of “The Pantry of the Sun” by Prishvin

Pantry of the sun

Fairy tale

The sour and very healthy cranberry berry grows in swamps in the summer and is harvested in late autumn. But not everyone knows that the best cranberry is sweet, as we say, happens when it spends the winter under the snow. These spring dark red cranberries float in our pots along with beets and drink tea with them as with sugar. Those who don’t have sugar beets drink tea with only cranberries. We tried it ourselves - and it’s okay, you can drink it: sour replaces sweet and is very good on hot days. And what a wonderful jelly made from sweet cranberries, what a fruit drink! And among our people, this cranberry is considered a healing medicine for all diseases.

This spring, there was still snow in the dense spruce forests at the end of April, but in the swamps it is always much warmer: there was no snow there at that time at all. Having learned about this from people, Mitrasha and Nastya began to gather for cranberries. Even before daylight, Nastya gave food to all her animals. Mitrash took his father’s double-barreled gun “Tulku”, decoy And for hazel grouse and didn’t forget the compass either. It used to be that his father, heading into the forest, would never forget this compass. More than once Mitrash asked his father:

All your life you walk through the forest, and you know the whole forest like the palm of your hand. Why else do you need this arrow?

You see, Dmitry Pavlovich, - the father answered, - in the forest this arrow is kinder to you than your mother: sometimes the sky will be covered with clouds, and you cannot decide by the sun in the forest, if you go at random, you will make a mistake, get lost, go hungry. Then just look at the arrow and it will show you where your home is. You go straight home along the arrow, and they will feed you there. This arrow is more faithful to you than a friend: sometimes your friend will cheat on you, but the arrow invariably always, no matter how you turn it, always looks north.

Having examined the wonderful thing, Mitrash locked the compass so that the needle would not tremble in vain along the way. He carefully, like a father, wrapped footcloths around his feet, tucked them into his boots, and put on a cap so old that its visor split in two: the upper crust rode up above the sun, and the lower one went down almost to the very nose. Mitrash dressed in his father’s old jacket, or rather in a collar connecting stripes of once good homespun fabric. The boy tied these stripes on his tummy with a sash, and his father's jacket sat on him like a coat, right down to the ground. The hunter’s son also tucked an ax into his belt, hung a bag with a compass on his right shoulder, a double-barreled Tulka on his left, and thus became terribly scary for all birds and animals.

Nastya, starting to get ready, hung a large basket over her shoulder on a towel.

Why do you need a towel? - asked Mitrasha.

“But what about,” Nastya answered, “don’t you remember how your mother went to pick mushrooms?”

For mushrooms! You understand a lot: there are a lot of mushrooms, so it hurts your shoulder.

And maybe we’ll have even more cranberries.

And just when Mitrash wanted to say his “here’s another”, he remembered what his father had said about cranberries, back when they were preparing him for war.

Do you remember this, - Mitrasha said to his sister, - how my father told us about cranberries, that there is a Palestinian

The Bludovo swamp, where we ourselves also wandered more than once, began, as a large swamp almost always begins, with an impenetrable thicket of willow, alder and other shrubs. The first person passed this pribolotitsa with an ax in his hand and cut down a passage for other people. The hummocks settled under human feet, and the path became a groove along which water flowed. The children crossed this marshy area in the pre-dawn darkness without much difficulty. And when the bushes stopped obscuring the view ahead, at the first morning light the swamp opened up to them, like the sea. And yet, it was the same, this Bludovo swamp, the bottom of the ancient sea. And just as there, in the real sea, there are islands, just as there are oases in deserts, so there are hills in swamps. In the Bludov swamp, these sandy hills, covered with high forest, are called borins. After walking a little through the swamp, the children climbed the first hill, known as the High Mane. From here, from a high bald spot in the gray haze of the first dawn, Borina Zvonkaya could be barely visible.

Even before reaching Zvonkaya Borina, almost right next to the path, individual blood-red berries began to appear. Cranberry hunters initially put these berries in their mouths. Anyone who has never tasted autumn cranberries in their life and would have immediately had enough of spring ones would have taken their breath away from the acid. But the village orphans knew well what autumn cranberries were, and that’s why when they ate spring cranberries now, they repeated:

How sweet!

Borina Zvonkaya willingly opened up her wide clearing to the children, which even now, in April, was covered with dark green lingonberry grass. Among this greenery of last year, here and there new flowers of white snowdrop and purple, small and fragrant flowers of wolf's bast could be seen.

They smell good, try picking a wolf bast flower,” said Mitrasha.

Nastya tried to break the twig of the stem and could not do it.

Why is this bast called a wolf's bast? - she asked.

“My father said,” my brother answered, “the wolves weave baskets out of him.”

And he laughed.

Are there still wolves here?

Well, of course! Father said there is a terrible wolf here, the Gray Landowner.

I remember: the same one who slaughtered our herd before the war.

Father said: he lives on the Sukhaya River, in the rubble.

Will he not touch you and me?

Let him try! - answered the hunter with a double visor.

While the children were talking like this and the morning was moving closer and closer to dawn, Borina Zvonkaya was filled with bird songs, the howls, moans and cries of animals. Not all of them were here, on Borina, but from the swamp, damp, deaf, all the sounds gathered here. Borina with the forest, pine and sonorous on dry land, responded to everything.

But the poor birds and little animals, how they all suffered, trying to pronounce some common, one beautiful word! And even children, as simple as Nastya and Mitrasha, understood their effort. They all wanted to say just one beautiful word.

You can see how the bird sings on the branch, and every feather trembles with effort. But still, they cannot say words like we do, and they have to sing, shout, and tap.

Tek-tek! - the huge bird Capercaillie taps barely audibly in the dark forest.

Shvark-shwark! - The Wild Drake flew in the air over the river.

Crack-crack! - wild duck Mallard on the lake.

Gu-gu-gu! - beautiful bird Bullfinch on a birch tree.

The snipe, a small gray bird with a nose as long as a flattened hairpin, rolls through the air like a wild lamb. It seems like “alive, alive!” cries the curlew sandpiper. The black grouse is somewhere muttering and chuffing. The white partridge, like a witch, is laughing.

We, hunters, have long, since our childhood, distinguished, and rejoiced, and understand well what word they are all working on and cannot say. That is why, when we come to the forest in early spring at dawn and hear it, we will tell them, as people, this word:

Hello!

And it’s as if they will then also be delighted, as if they will then also pick up the wonderful word that has flown from the human tongue.

And they quack in response, and snort, and squawk, and squawk, trying to answer us with all their voices:

Hello, hello, hello!

But among all these sounds, one burst out, unlike anything else.

Can you hear? - asked Mitrasha.

How can you not hear! - Nastya answered. “I’ve been hearing it for a long time, and it’s somehow scary.”

There's nothing wrong with it! My father told me and showed me: this is how a hare screams in the spring.

Why?

Father said: he shouts “Hello, bunny!”

What's that noise?

Father said it was the bittern, the water bull, whooping.

And why is he hooting?

My father said that he also has his own girlfriend, and in his own way he also says to her, like everyone else: “Hello, Vypikha.”

And suddenly it became fresh and cheerful, as if the whole earth had washed at once, and the sky lit up, and all the trees smelled of their bark and buds. Then, as if above all the sounds, a special, triumphant cry broke out, flew out and covered everything, similar, as if all people joyfully in harmonious agreement could shout:

Victory, victory!

What is this? - asked the delighted Nastya.

My father said this is how cranes greet the sun. This means that the sun will rise soon.

But the sun had not yet risen when the hunters for sweet cranberries descended into a large swamp. The celebration of meeting the sun had not yet begun here. A night blanket hung over the small gnarled fir trees and birches like a gray haze and muffled all the wonderful sounds of the Belling Borina. Only a painful, painful and joyless howl was heard here.

Nastenka shrank all over from the cold, and in the dampness of the swamp the sharp, stupefying smell of wild rosemary reached her. The Golden Hen on her high legs felt small and weak in front of this inevitable force of death.

“What is it, Mitrasha,” Nastenka asked, shuddering, “howling so terribly in the distance?”

“My father said,” Mitrash answered, “it’s the wolves howling on the Sukhaya River, and probably now it’s the Gray Landowner wolf howling.” Father said that all the wolves on the Sukhaya River were killed, but it was impossible to kill Gray.

So why is he howling terribly now?

My father said that wolves howl in the spring because they now have nothing to eat. And Gray is still left alone, so he howls.

The marsh dampness seemed to penetrate through the body to the bones and chill them. And I really didn’t want to go even lower into the damp, muddy swamp!

Where are we going to go? - asked Nastya.

Mitrasha took out a compass, set the north and, pointing to a weaker path going north, said:

We will go north along this path.

No,” Nastya answered, “we will go along this big path where all the people go.” Father told us, do you remember what a terrible place this is - Blind Elan, how many people and livestock died in it. No, no, Mitrashenka, we won’t go there. Everyone goes in this direction, which means cranberries grow there.

You understand a lot! - the hunter interrupted her - We will go to the north, as my father said, there is a Palestinian place where no one has ever been.

Nastya, noticing that her brother was starting to get angry, suddenly smiled and stroked him on the back of his head. Mitrasha immediately calmed down, and the friends walked along the path indicated by the arrow, now no longer side by side, as before, but one after another, in single file.

Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin

Pantry of the sun

Fairy tale

In one village, near the Bludov swamp, near the city of Pereslavl-Zalessky, two children were orphaned. Their mother died of illness, their father died in the Patriotic War.

We lived in this village just one house away from the children. And, of course, we, along with other neighbors, tried to help them as best we could. They were very nice. Nastya was like a golden chicken on high legs. Her hair, neither dark nor light, shimmered with gold, the freckles all over her face were large, like gold coins, and frequent, and they were cramped, and they climbed in all directions. Only one nose was clean and looked up.

Mitrasha was two years younger than his sister. He was only about ten years old. He was short, but very dense, with a broad forehead and a wide nape. He was a stubborn and strong boy.

“The little man in the bag,” the teachers at school called him smiling among themselves.

“The little man in the bag,” like Nastya, was covered in golden freckles, and his nose, clean, like his sister’s, looked up.

After their parents, their entire peasant farm went to their children: the five-walled hut, the cow Zorka, the heifer Dochka, the goat Dereza. Nameless sheep, chickens, golden rooster Petya and piglet Horseradish.

Along with this wealth, however, the poor children also received great care for all living beings. But did our children cope with such a misfortune during the difficult years of the Patriotic War! At first, as we have already said, their distant relatives and all of us neighbors came to help the children. But very soon the smart and friendly guys learned everything themselves and began to live well.

And what smart kids they were! Whenever possible, they joined in social work. Their noses could be seen on collective farm fields, in meadows, in barnyards, at meetings, in anti-tank ditches: their noses were so perky.

In this village, although we were newcomers, we knew well the life of every house. And now we can say: there was not a single house where they lived and worked as friendly as our favorites lived.

Just like her late mother, Nastya got up far before the sun, in the predawn hour, along the shepherd's chimney. With a twig in her hand, she drove out her beloved herd and rolled back to the hut. Without going to bed again, she lit the stove, peeled potatoes, made dinner, and so busied herself with the housework until nightfall.

Mitrasha learned from his father how to make wooden utensils: barrels, gangs, tubs. He has a jointer that is more than twice his height. And with this ladle he adjusts the planks one to another, folds them and supports them with iron or wooden hoops.

With a cow, there was no such need for two children to sell wooden utensils at the market, but kind people ask, who needs a gang for the washbasin, who needs a barrel for dripping, who needs a tub to pickle cucumbers or mushrooms, or even a simple vessel with teeth - to plant a home flower .

He will do it, and then he will also be repaid with kindness. But, besides cooperage, he is responsible for all the men's farming and social affairs. He attends all meetings, tries to understand public concerns and, probably, realizes something.

It’s very good that Nastya is two years older than her brother, otherwise he would certainly have become arrogant and in their friendship they would not have had the wonderful equality they have now. It happens that now Mitrasha will remember how his father taught his mother, and, imitating his father, will also decide to teach his sister Nastya. But my sister doesn’t listen much, she stands and smiles. Then the “little guy in the bag” begins to get angry and swagger and always says with his nose in the air:

- Here's another!

- Why are you showing off? - my sister objects.

- Here's another! - the brother is angry. – You, Nastya, swagger yourself.

- No, it's you!

- Here's another!

So, having tormented her obstinate brother, Nastya strokes him on the back of his head. And as soon as the sister’s little hand touches the wide back of his brother’s head, his father’s enthusiasm leaves the owner.

“Let’s weed together,” the sister will say.

And the brother also begins to weed the cucumbers, or hoe the beets, or hill up the potatoes.

The sour and very healthy cranberry berry grows in swamps in the summer and is harvested in late autumn. But not everyone knows that the best cranberries, the sweetest ones, as we say, happen when they have spent the winter under the snow.

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The action of the fairy tale “Pantry of the Sun”, written by a great lover of nature Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin, takes place during the Great Patriotic War. The events that will be discussed took place in wooded and swampy areas in the area of ​​​​the city of Pereslavl-Zalessky.

Chapter 1.

At the beginning of the work, the author introduces us to its main actors- the little girl Nastya and her brother Mitrasha. Their mother died of illness, and their father died in the war. After this, the neighbors took patronage over the guys. But the brother and sister turned out to be so friendly and hard-working that they soon began to cope with their daily life and household chores themselves, of which, by the way, they had a lot left. The children had a cow, a pig, sheep, a goat, and chickens. And twelve-year-old Nastya and her ten-year-old brother managed all this. The girl was tall, the neighbors affectionately called her a golden hen with high legs, the boy was short and stocky, for which he received the nickname “little man in a bag.”

One thing that marked them out as relatives was the freckles that dotted the kids’ faces everywhere except their inquisitive noses. Despite the large volume homework: taking care of the livestock, the garden, chores around the house, the guys never shunned the team, went to meetings, trying to understand what was being said, dug anti-tank ditches, helped on the collective farm. Mitrash's father taught him cooperage. And the boy, to the best of his ability, made custom-made wooden dishes for his neighbors. The author is amazed at how united the children were. He remembers that he lived next door to them and did not know anyone more friendly with each other in the entire village. As soon as Mitrash sulked, Nastenka came up to him, stroked him affectionately on the head, and her little brother’s anger immediately passed.

Chapter 2.

The next chapter of the tale begins with the narrator describing beneficial properties cranberries, which grew in abundance in those places. He claims that cranberries that have overwintered under the snow are especially good, especially if you steam them in a pot of sugar beets. This drink completely replaces sweet tea, and in those parts cranberry was considered a cure for all diseases.

In that harsh area, there was still snow in the forest at the end of April, but near the swamps it was much warmer, and there was no snow left at all there at the same time. Nastya and Mitrash learned about this from their neighbors and decided to go on their expedition to get sweet cranberries. The girl gave food to all her animals. The boy prepared his uniform, just as his father taught him. He took with him a double-barreled Tulku shotgun, and he didn’t forget about the compass. His father praised him very much about this wonderful device, with which you won’t get lost in the forest in any weather. Nastya took provisions with her - bread, milk and boiled potatoes, putting it all in a huge basket. Seeing that basket, Mitrash smiled and recalled to his sister how his father had talked about a Palestinian village (a beautiful, pleasant place in the forest), where everything was strewn with cranberries. The prudent girl, in turn, remembered that the path to that Palestinian woman lay through the Blind Elan - a disastrous place where many people and livestock laid down their lives.

Chapter 3.

And so the guys finally set off on their hike. They easily crossed the swamp of the Bludov swamp, through which they had to make their way. People often walked through those places, and they had already managed to cut a road between the trunks of the lush vegetation there.

The narrator tells us that in that area, in the middle of the swamps, there are sandy hills called borins. It was on one such hill that our cranberry hunters climbed out. There they began to come across the first blood-red berries. In addition to berries, on Borina Zvonkaya, the guys also encountered traces of the coming spring - lush grass and wolf bast flowers. Mitrash jokingly told his sister that wolves use him to weave baskets for themselves. After this, the guys cautiously remembered the ferocious wolf that their father had also told them about. That wolf was called the Gray Landowner, and he lived in the rubble on the Sukhaya River, all in the same forest through which the orphans made their way.

The approaching dawn brought a variety of bird trills to the ears of the brother and sister. Residents of nearby villages could distinguish almost any bird that was hiding in the branches by its voice. But in addition to bird voices, a painful, painful and joyless howl also cut through the pre-dawn darkness. It was the Gray Landowner howling. There were rumors among the villagers that this wolf could not be killed, he was so cunning and insidious.

Finally, the guys reached a fork in the road: one path departing from the fork was wide and well-trodden, the second was barely noticeable. The children were puzzled about where to go. Mitrasha took a compass out of the case and determined that a narrow path leads to the north. Namely, to the north, according to my father, we need to go to get to Palestine. Nastya did not want to go along the little-known path, the girl was frightened by the destructive Blind Elan, but after a short argument she gave in to her brother. And so the cranberry hunters set off north along a narrow path.

Chapter 4.

After some time, the guys reached a place popularly called the Lying Stone. There the orphans made a halt, waiting for the first rays of dawn to move on. After it was finally dawn, the children noticed that two paths again diverged from the stone. One good, dense path went to the right, the other, weak, went straight. After checking the direction on the compass, Mitrasha pointed to a weak path, to which Nastya replied that this was not a road at all. The little man in the bag insisted that this was exactly the path that his father had talked about. The sister assumed that the father was simply making fun of them, but the brother continued to stand his ground, and then completely took off and walked along a narrow path. The angry baby did not think about either the basket or the provisions, and the sister did not stop him, but only spat after him and went along the wide path. And immediately, as if by magic, the sky became cloudy, the crows cawed ominously, the trees rustled and groaned.

Chapter 5.

The plaintive groan of the trees forced the hound dog Travka to crawl out of the collapsed potato pit. She climbed out of the hole and howled as pitifully as the trees around her. Two whole years have passed since a terrible misfortune happened in the animal’s life: the forester she adored, the old hunter Antipych, died.

The author recalls how they went to Antipych for a long time to hunt. And he still lived in his forest lodge, it’s true that he even forgot how old he was. And it seemed to our narrator that that forester would never die. He taught the youth wisdom. And the dog lived with him and doted on his old master.

But then the time came, and Antipych died. Soon after this, the war began, and no other guard was appointed in his place. His lodge fell apart, and Grass began to get used to wild image life. The dog hunted hares, often forgetting that she was hunting for herself, and not for her adored owner. And when the animal became completely unbearable, it climbed up the hill, which was once a hut, and howled and howled...

The gray landowner, hungry during the winter, had been listening to that howl for a long time.

Chapter 6.

Wolves in those places caused great harm agriculture, destroying livestock. The narrator found himself in a group sent into the forest to fight wild animals. This group, according to all the rules, determined the habitat of the wolves and surrounded it with a rope around the entire perimeter. Red flags that smelled like red flags were hung on the rope. This was not done lightly, as wolves are irritated and frightened by this color and smell. Exits were made in the fence, the number of which coincided with the number of shooters in the detachment.

After this, the beaters began to bang with sticks and make noise to agitate the animals. All the wolves behaved as people expected - they rushed to the holes in the fence, where they met their death, but not the Gray Landowner. This cunning old wolf waved through the flags, was wounded twice in the ear and tail, but still escaped from the hunters.

Over the next summer, Gray slaughtered no less cows and sheep than the entire dead flock combined. In winter, when the pasture was empty, he caught dogs in the villages and ate mainly dogs.

That morning, when the children quarreled among themselves and went in different directions, the wolf was hungry and angry. Therefore, when the trees near the Lying Stone began to stagger and howl, he could not stand it, crawled out of his shelter and also howled. And it was an ominous howl that made your blood run cold.

Chapter 7.

So the wolf and the dog howled on both sides of the swamp. The gray landowner heard Grass's howl and ran in the direction where the sound came from. Fortunately for the hound, severe hunger forced her to stop crying for the man and go looking for the hare's trail. Just at that time, an old brown hare was walking nearby. He, like the children, sat down to rest at the Lying Stone, but a howl that reached his sensitive ears made the hare run away towards the Blind Elani. The grass easily smelled the hare's scent when it reached the Lying Stone. But besides the hare, Grass also smelled the scent of two little people and their basket of supplies. The dog desperately wanted to eat the bread, and began to sniff out which direction the man with the bread had gone. Thanks to her hunting sense, Travka soon solved this problem and followed Nastya along the wide road.

Chapter 8.

The Bludovo swamp, along which Mitrash’s compass needle pointed, contained huge reserves of peat. That is why the author nicknamed this place the pantry of the sun. The sun gives life to every blade of grass and tree in the forest. Dying and falling into the swamp, plants turn into minerals stored under the water column, and this is how it turns out that the swamp is a storehouse of the sun. The peat layer in the Bludov swamp was uneven. The closer to Blind Elani, the younger and thinner she is. Mitrash moved forward, and the paths and bumps under his feet became not just soft, but semi-liquid.

The boy was absolutely not a coward, listened to the birds singing and even sang songs himself to cheer himself up. But the absence life experience it did the job. The little man in the bag strayed from the road trodden by another person and ended up straight into the Blind Elan. At first it was even easier to walk there than through the swamp. But after some time, the boy’s feet began to sink deeper and deeper. He stopped and found himself knee-deep in swamp slurry. Having made a desperate attempt to escape, Mitrasha plunged into the swamp up to his chest. Now the slightest movement or sigh pulled him down. Then the guy made the only right decision - he laid his gun flat on the swamp, leaned on it with both hands and calmed his breathing. Suddenly the wind carried his sister's scream to him. Mitrash answered her, but the wind carried his cry in the other direction. Tears streamed down the boy’s dark face.

Chapter 9

Cranberries are a valuable and healthy berry, so many people got carried away when picking them. Sometimes it came to a fight. Nastenka also got very carried away picking cranberries, so much so that she forgot about her brother. In pursuit of the berry, the girl also strayed from the path she was following. The children did not know that both paths they had chosen would eventually converge in one place. Nastya’s path went around the Blind Elan, and Mitrashina went straight along its edge. If the boy had not gone astray, he would have long ago been where Nastenka had just now reached. This place was the very Palestine where he was striving little man by compass. Everything here was truly cranberry red. The girl began to greedily pick berries and put them in a basket, completely forgetting about her brother. She crawled through the swamp, without even raising her head, until she reached the burnt stump on which the viper was hiding. The snake hissed, and this made the girl perk up, and the elk, which was peacefully gnawing on an aspen tree in the bushes, perked up. Nastya stared in amazement at the reptile. And very close to the girl stood a large red dog with a black strap. It was Grass. Nastya remembered her, Antipych came to the village with her more than once, but she forgot the name of the animal. She began to call her Muravka and offer her bread. And suddenly the girl seemed to be illuminated, and a piercing cry was heard throughout the forest: “Brother, Mitrasha!”

Chapter 10.

Evening came. Nastya was crying in the clearing for her missing brother. The grass came up to her and licked the girl’s salty cheek. She really wanted bread, but she couldn’t dig into the basket herself. In order to somehow support the child in his trouble, Grass raised her head up and howled piercingly. Gray heard this howl and rushed towards the Palestinian with all his might.

But the dog was distracted because he smelled the hare again. She, as an experienced hunter, understood the circle of the hare's escape and rushed after him to the Lying Stone. There she spotted her prey, tensed up to jump, miscalculated a little and flew over the hare. The Rusak, in turn, rushed as fast as he could along Mitrash’s path straight to the Blind Elan. Hearing the long-awaited dog barking, the Gray landowner also rushed as fast as he could in that direction.

Chapter 11.

The grass rushed after the hare, who tried in every possible way to confuse his tracks.

But suddenly the dog stopped dead in his tracks. Ten steps away from her, she saw a small man. In Travka’s understanding, all people were divided into two types - Antipych with by different persons, that is, kind person, and enemy of Antipych. That is why the smart dog looked at Mitrasha from afar.

The boy’s eyes were dull and dead at first, but when he saw Grass, they gradually lit up with fire. This burning gaze reminded the dog of its owner, and it weakly waved its tail.

And suddenly she heard the little man pronounce her name. It must be said that initially the forester called his dog Zatravka, only later its name acquired a shortened version. Mitrasha said: “Seeding!” Hope was kindled in the animal's heart that this little boy will become her new Antipych. And she crawled.

The boy affectionately called the dog, but there was a clear calculation in his behavior. When she crawled to the distance he needed, he grabbed her right hand by the strong hind leg, the animal rushed with all its might, but the boy did not loosen his grip, but only grabbed it by the second hind leg and instantly lay down on his stomach on the gun.

On all fours, moving the gun from place to place, the boy finally crawled onto the path along which the man was walking.

There he stood in full height, shook himself off and shouted loudly: “Come to me now, my Seed!” After these words, the dog finally recognized Mitrash as its new owner.

Chapter 12.

Grass was delighted to have a new person to serve. And as a sign of her gratitude, she decided to catch him a hare. Hungry Mitrash decided that this hare would be his salvation. He replaced the wet cartridges in the gun, put it at gunpoint and began to wait behind a juniper bush for the dog to bring the prey to him. But it so happened that it was behind this bush that Gray hid, having heard the renewed rutting of the dog. Seeing a gray muzzle five steps away from him, Mitrash forgot about the hare and shot almost point-blank. The gray landowner ended his life without suffering.

Hearing the noise of the shot, Nastya screamed loudly, her brother answered her, and she instantly ran to him. Soon Travka appeared with a hare in her mouth. And they began to warm themselves by the fire and prepare food and lodging for the night.

When the neighbors found out that the children had not spent the night at home, they began to prepare a rescue expedition. But suddenly, in the morning, hunters for sweet cranberries came out of the forest in single file, with a pole with a heavy basket on their shoulders, and Antipych’s dog running next to them.

The children told in detail about their adventures. But people couldn’t believe that a ten-year-old boy could kill the Gray landowner. Several people with a sleigh and a rope went to the indicated place and soon brought the remains of a huge wolf to the village. Onlookers even from neighboring villages came to look at them. And since then they began to call the man in the bag a hero.

Nastya reproached herself that because of her greed for cranberries she forgot about her brother, so she gave all the berries to the children released from prison. besieged Leningrad.

Studies have shown that the peat in the swamp is enough to operate a huge factory for a hundred years. The narrator encourages the reader to reject the prejudice that there are devils in swamps, and to perceive them as real storehouses of the sun.

“Pantry of the Sun” - a fairy tale by Mikhail Mikhailovich Prishvin