Bulls will come across a helmet something firm and tenacious ahead.
Perhaps a collapse? It is necessary to slip the party... The Collapse can even fall asleep, but it, of course, nonsense... In
gorge reddish twilight, instead of a full gloom, but Bulls began to see very badly. It includes a small lamp. It is the end of
gorge, a thicket of huge prickles. Here traces of "Boy" - the turned black, wrinkled branches-lashes which have been pulled
out together with blocks of a stone from a rock. The gorge has again grown, but it is possible to make the way. There were
all some thousand steps...
- If, of course, to go feet, - rattles behind Jurkovsky.
Bulls sits down, tightens under itself the grown dumb feet. The skin was in a lap erased absolutely, but the pain for some
reason is not felt. And it is very good.
I that - aloud speak? - Asks Bulls not without surprise. It is impossible to go already, it is impossible, but it is possible to creep
and, it appears to be surprised even.
- You stir all time, as the spoilt record player. - Jurkovsky speaks muffledly and slowly. - you all time talk nonsense and
continuously shout at me that did not lag behind... And when you call, you do not respond... It is insulting even...
That-ak, means, it is possible also to take offence. Bulls remembers, as if Really Jurkovsky called to him and something told.
About water. Yes. And about a stream. Lines so he all time spoke it! Bykovu it becomes a little terrible: on gorge two,
connected with each other the belt which has been removed from a knapsack creep, and talk loudly, that without noticing.
However, here there is nobody on it to look.
- We spat, - he speaks aloud.
- Truly, - responds Jurkovsky.
- There our bog, Volodja. The nonsense remained. Give! - give! - speaks Jurkovsky.
- Well, forward, means? - Asks Bulls.
- Forward! - answers Jurkovsky.
... On a bog jungle of monstrous whitish plants moved in a shone fog. They grew very densely, and it was necessary to
squeeze between their thick slippery trunks. The bog gave smacking kiss, champed, sucked in a dirty wet mouth. Before last
solving throw have arranged a long halt, and Bulls were taken by a precious treasured thermos of Dauge - their last hope
and a support. In a thermos almost two litres of orange juice, and Jurkovsky even has silently laughed, when rough black
ballonchik has hung in a small lamp beam. Bulls has resolved Jurkovsky and to drink on five drinks of a life and has poured
in in the baked mouth of Dauge the whole glass. Then they slept by turns three hours and have drunk on five drinks...