Riding Icarus Read Free Page B

by my melon patch; the next, that sneaking cowardly devil has whisked me off here and I can’t finish the hopak, may his toenails rot off.”
    “The devil?”
    “Who else but that miserable lump of sheep’s offal? Wait till I get my hands on him – I’ll tie his ears round his ankles and kick him into the middle of next week.”
    “The middle of next week,” somebody distinctly said behind them.
    They both turned round. Beneath the starry sky and the soft shade of the willow trees, nobody was there. Masha realized she’d taken hold of one of the Cossack’s big warm hands in fright. She was a bit embarrassed, but he didn’t seem to mind.
    “What a sly one,” he said. “Will the wretch come out into the open? Of course not. A pair of honest Ukrainians like us is enough to scare the tiny wits out of his turnip of a skull.”
    Silence all round. Maybe the Cossack was right.
    “Where in the world, or out of it, are we?” he mused, tugging at the fat moustache which drooped down to his chin. “Where has that interfering slyboots brought us?”
    “I sort of know,” said Masha. “I mean, I think I recognize it – only I don’t quite know where it is.”
    “That’s not very helpful,” the Cossack commented.
    Masha looked around again, hoping to spot a familiar landmark. She pulled at his hand in excitement.
    “Look! Something’s over there.”
    Beneath the trees was a glow of eerie, greenish light. They approached cautiously. It came from a candle standing on a long, raised hump of ground overgrown with ferns. The green-tinged flame stretched itself up tall, then squashed down small and guttering in a non-existent breeze. Then it went out.
    It was dark and cold under the trees. The hump of ground looked sinisterly like a grave.
    “Do you think someone’s buried there?” Masha whispered, clinging to the Cossack’s comforting hand.
    “Not some
one
, some
thing
,” cried her companion. “Buried treasure, that’s what – I’ll bet my boots and my best bonnet.”
    “Treasure?”
    “Of course. What else would you expect to find in an enchanted place? Let’s get digging.” He detached his hand from hers and hitched up his trousers – and slapped his forehead with a cry of frustration. “No spade,” he groaned. “Have you got a spade?”
    “No, but there’s one inside Icarus.”
    “Icarus?”
    “The trolleybus,” she explained. “It’s where I live. He’s just over here.” She turned round to where she could still dimly see the striped trolleybus sides, black and grey now in the darkness.
    There was a click and a hum. The trolleybus headlights came on, illuminating two thick paths of light through the trees.
    “Mind, please, the door is about to close,” said the precise, tinny voice of a recorded announcement, like that on the public trolleybuses that drove around the town. Icarus’s door scraped shut. “Next stop, Bare Mountain,” Masha thought she heard the voice, muffled now, announce. The hum rose to a whine and the trolleybus trundled away, squeaking as it bounced over the uneven ground.
    They stared after it open-mouthed.
    “Now how am I going to get home?” wailed Masha. “How will I ever find Granny?”
    The Cossack was tugging at his moustache again. “Me a grandfather, and I’ve never seen anything like that before,” he muttered. “The devil’s really up to his tricks tonight. And how are we going to mark this spot, hey? I’m damned if I’m going to lose sight of my treasure.”
    He cast about on the ground until he caught sight of an old log lying under one of the trees.
    “X marks the spot,” he said cheerfully, dragging the branch over to lie beside the candle.
    Masha wrapped her arms around herself to try and stop shivering. “But we don’t know where we are,” she observed disconsolately, “so how can we find it again?”
    “I thought you said you recognized it?”
    “Yes, but it’s all wrong. Everything’s in the wrong place,” Masha tried to