Osip, squinting, looked at Artiom for some time. Then he answered, “You think that’s appropriate? I, probably, don’t want to go anywhere.”
“Come on,” Artiom said confidently. “They’ll feed us very well there… But you and I will also bring a few things with us.” With these words, he pulled out his own dry ration from under the bed.
Osip glanced at the dry ration, as though he might find something new and unexpected there.
In Mezernitskii’s room, Grakov and Vasilii Petrovich were already sitting down. Grakov was on the bed, Vasilii Petrovich sat near the window on a chair. The host himself was addressing them.
Artiom barely stopped himself from laughing aloud like a child. He was extraordinarily glad to see his old comrade. Vasilii Petrovich’s eyes also sparked, as though someone had blo
