Vanya Dykhov had a bicycle. It was an old bike, but it was still good. It used to belong to Vanya's father, but when it broke down he said to Vanya,

"Here you are. Try fixing it instead of just wasting your time and you can have it. It'll still last you for a while." Was Vanya happy! He wheeled it over to the far end of the yard and stopped wasting his time. He spent all his time fixing the bike: hammering, screwing and unscrewing all the parts. He was all full of axle grease, and his fingers were bruised, because he often missed and hit them when he was hammering. Still, he was coming along nicely, because he'd always been good at shop. He's in the fifth grade and they do metal work in shop. I helped him a lot. Every day he'd say,

"Just you wait, Dennis. As soon as we fix it I'll ride you on the carrier. We'll ride all over Moscow!"

I helped him still more because he is such a good friend, even though he is in the 5th grade and I'm only in the 2nd. I really tried hard when we worked on the carrier. I gave it four coats of black paint. After all, it was practically mine. It shone just like a new car. I kept thinking ahead to when I'd ride on it, holding onto Vanya's belt and bicycling around the world.

Finally, one day, Vanya set the bike upright, pumped air into the tires, wiped it with a clean rag, washed his hands in the rain barrel and pinned back his pants' cuffs with clothespins. This was the great day. Vanya got on his bike and pedalled off. At first he did a slow circle around the yard. The wheels were spinning smoothly, scratching softly along the ground. Vanya began pedalling faster. The spokes flashed. He began zig-zagging and doing figure-eights. He'd pedal real fast and then jam on the brakes, stopping dead. Vanya was testing every part of the bike like a test-pilot, I stood there watching him just like an airplane mechanic watches his pilot in the air. I was glad he was such a good rider though I can probably ride even better or, at any rate, not worse than him. But it was his bike, not mine, so it didn't make any difference. He could do whatever he wanted to. You'd never guess it was an old bike. It was better than a new one. Especially the carrier.

Vanya kept galloping around for about half an hour. I was beginning to think he'd forgotten all about me, but he hadn't. He rode up, steadied himself by bracing one foot against the fence, and said,

"Come on, get on!"

While I was climbing on I asked, "Where'll we go?"

"What's the difference? Out into the wide blue yonder!"

I suddenly felt as if that wide blue yonder was full of happy people who were just waiting for Vanya and me to come and visit them, and when we did, with Vanya at the wheel and me on the carrier, it'd be the signal for a great festival to begin. There'd be colored flags and balloons, and singing and ice cream, and brass bands, and clowns doing handstands.

That was the wonderful feeling I had as I settled back on the carrier and grapped hold of Vanya's belt. Vanya began to pedal. Goodbye, Daddy! Goodbye, Mommy! Goodbye, old yard! and everything in it! We're off into the wide blue yonder!

Vanya rode out of the yard. He turned the corner and we bicycled up and down a lot of side streets. Everything looked different now. It was all so strange. Vanya kept ringing the bell so's not to run anyone over.

We sped along like lightning. I was feeling great and wanted to shout at the top of my voice. So I shouted "A-a-a-a-ah!" My shout sounded funny when we bicycled into a tiny lane paved with cobblestones. The bike rattled over them and my "A-a-ah's" sounded like barking or coughing. I was shouting: "Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" But then we were onto a paved street again and it was coming out "A-a-a-a-ah!" again.

We kept on bicycling up one street and down another till we got tired. Vanya stopped, and I jumped down.

"How was it?" he asked.

"Terrific!"

"Were you comfortable?"

"It was like riding on a featherbed. Even better. What a bike! It's a real winner!"

He laughed and smoothed down his hair that was all standing on end. His face was dirty and dusty, but that only made his eyes bluer and his teeth whiter.

That's when that big boy came over to us. He was tall, and he had a gold tooth. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and his arms were covered with drawings. A shaggy little mutt that looked like it'd been made of scraps and bits was following him. It had black tufts and white tufts, and brown tufts, and one was even green. Its tail was curled, and it stood still on three paws with a front one crooked.

"Where are you from, boys?" he asked.

"From Kachalov Street."

"You don't say? See how far you've come! Is this your bike?"

"Yes," Vanya said. "It used to be my Dad's, but it's mine now. I fixed it myself. And he," here Vanya pointed at me, "helped me."

"You don't say? You'd never guess it to look at you. Why, you're just a pair of engineers."

"Is this your dog?" I asked.

"Yes. It's a very valuable dog. It's pedigreed. It's a Spanish dachshund."

"No, it isn't! That's no dachshund. They're long and narrow," Vanya said.

"Shut up, if you don't know what you're talking about! Moscow dachshunds are long 'cause they spend their lives under the cupboard and grow long and low. But this is a different kind. He's a very valuable dog. And a faithful friend. His name's Thief." After a while he sighed a couple of times and said, "But what's the use? He's a faithful friend, but he's still a dog and can't help me in this time of trouble." His eyes got full of tears.

My heart skipped a beat. What was it?

"What's the matter?" Vanya asked. He sounded scared.

The big boy swayed and leaned against the wall. "My Granny's dying," he said and began gasping and sobbing. "She's dying. She has double appendicitis." He cocked an eye at us and added, "Double appendicitis and measles." He sobbed and wiped his tears on his sleeve. My heart was pounding by now. Meanwhile, he leaned more comfortably against the wall and began crying out loudly. His dog looked at him and began to howl. It was really awful. Vanya turned pale under the dust on his face. He put his hand on the big boy's shoulder and said in a shaky voice,

"Please don't cry! Why're you bawling?"

"Because," the big boy said and shook his head. "Because I don't have the strength to reach the drugstore. I haven't eaten in three days! Ohh! Oww! Ooh!" He began howling still louder.

The valuable Spanish dachshund did, too. There was nobody in sight. I didn't know what to do, but Vanya never gets ruffled in an emergency,

"Have you got the prescription? If you do, give it to me. I'll ride to the drugstore and back in no time. I'll get the medicine for you."

Good for Vanya! I'll never be lost with a friend like him. He always knows what to do. Sure. We'd go for the medicine and save the big boy's granny.

"Give us the prescription! We can't waste time!" I shouted.

But he began shaking worse than before. He waved his hand, stopped howling and shouted, "How can I? You must be crazy! How can I let two kids like you go to Sadovaya Street? Huh? Riding a bike? Don't you know what the traffic's like there? Huh? Why, you'll be mashed to a pulp in no time flat. With your arms and legs and heads all scattered! There are five-ton trucks there! And speeding tower-cranes! If you get run over it won't matter to you, but think of me! I'll be responsible. No, I can't let you go. Not for anything. I'd rather my poor old granny died!" And he began to howl in his gruff voice again. His valuable Spanish dachshund had never stopped howling in the first place. I couldn't take it any more. Here was this big boy, so noble and ready to sacrifice his granny as long as no harm came to us. I felt my mouth turning down at the corners and knew that in another second I'd begin to howl just as loudly as his dog. Vanya sniffled, too.

"What'll we do?" he asked.

"That's no problem," the big boy said in a very business-like voice. "There's only one way out. Lend me your bike. I'll go for the medicine and come right back. May I never get out of jail if I don't!" and he drew the side of his hand across his throat in a terrible pledge. Then he put a hand out towards the handlebars, but Vanya was still holding on to the bike. The big boy waggled it, then dropped his hand and began to sob again. "Owww! My poor old granny's going to die for nothing. And she could've gone on living. Ohhh..." He began to pull his hair.

I couldn't take it. It was too terrible for words. I burst out crying and said to Vanya, "Lend him the bike. His granny'll die! What if it was your granny?"

But Vanya held on to his bike. "I'll go for the medicine myself," he said through his tears.

Then the big boy bellowed, "Don't you trust me? Don't you? Are you too stingy to lend me your old rattletrap for a minute? Let the poor old lady die! Is that it? You want her to die of measles? Sure, what's it to you? You couldn't care less! You're just a bunch of murderers! Worried about an old bike!" He tore a button off his shirt, threw it down and began stamping on it.

We stood frozen to the spot. Then he suddenly snatched up his dog and thrust it at us, saying,

"Here! I'm giving you my best friend as a deposit. Now do you believe me? Do you? I'm giving you a valuable Spanish dachshund as a deposit!" And he deposited the dog in Vanya's arms.

It all seemed clear to me now, so I said, "He's giving us his dog, Vanya. He'll have to come back for it, because the dog is his friend. Besides, it's a very valuable dog. Go on, lend him the bike. Don't worry."

So Vanya handed over the bike and said, "Will you be back in fifteen minutes?"

"Much sooner. It'll only take me five. Wait for me here. Don't move from the spot." He leaped on the saddle, started off and turned straight into Sadovaya Street.

As he was turning the corner the valuable dog suddenly sprang out of Vanya's arms and streaked after him.

"Catch it!" Vanya shouted.

"We'll never catch it. He's gone after his owner. A dog can't live without its owner. That's what a faithful friend's really like. I wish I had a dog like him."

"But that was our deposit, wasn't it?" Vanya said sort of doubtfully.

"Don't worry. They'll be back soon."

We waited for five minutes.

"I can't see him yet," Vanya said.

"There's probably a lot of people in the drugstore."

Two more hours passed and still the big boy hadn't come back. Neither had the valuable dog. When it began to get dark Vanya took my hand and said,

"That's it. Let's go home."

"What's it?"

"I'm a stupid fool. He'll never come back. And I'll never see my bike again. Or the valuable Spanish dachshund either." Vanya didn't say another word.

He probably didn't want to scare me, but I kept thinking about what had probably happened anyway.

The traffic on Sadovaya Street is so heavy...