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The thoughts, one is more monstrous another, crowded in a head of Petera, as if flight of importunate flies. At times it seemed to it that from ears steam will go, but to stop it could not any more. The arose more questions, the more intensively he began to think, inspecting district.
Let it pass, with the Juggler. At first a stone plate. We will hypothetically present that it and is the cross basis. Let, it is impossible. Well also what?! It only the assumption. It, this plate, comes to an end at wood...
Peter has rounded bushes of a dogrose and has gone to pines. Having reached the plateau end, he has turned back and has looked at lake. Well, small bias is... Here again the stone is wider, than at water. A trapeze...
Perhaps the truth, the basis? And a dogrose... At what here a dogrose?
Peter has returned to a bush and has bypassed its circle. It had such impression that bushes grew in any round hole filled with the earth. Interestingly, and its walls go downwards steeply or?... The Muzhik has knelt and has started with edge to rake the soft earth palms. The hole edge has appeared absolutely equal, and a wall as if polished. It went with hardly an appreciable bias towards the centre.
Let's assume, a hemisphere... Or a cone. What is it? ancient kapishche? Then at what here a cross. Pagans do not trust in the Christ. At them the gods.
The head went around. Peter has decided to stop researches for a while. That it has found, quite sufficed to share thoughts with the friend. Execution should wake up soon, and together they yes will decide something...
Peter floated in the opposite direction. Now, when it sat in a boat, the kind on a granite plateau opened absolutely other. The further the Muzhik left from coast, the more strongly he was surprised to an unknown construction. The huge trapeze smoothly rising and extending to wood, looked a pedestal of the unprecedented sizes of the fallen monument. As though someone has dropped there is no time erected here... A cross?, a cross! It should stand once. As monstrously it sounds, but it really is. It is hidden under thickness of water...
Really it is a lot of on the earth of not opened secrets? Really and to it will suffice?
Peteru so it would be desirable to become history. Than it is worse than Shlimana?

- Means, has thrown me?! Well... - Shura has listened to the story of the friend and sat now on a bed with a gloomy kind. - I, mean, for the sake of it all I throw, I will take in debts, by hook or by crook I make out the visa in one day, I roll to it to Italy to the aid, and it... Thanks you, bratan. Many thanks! Eh, the grandfather spoke to me - do not do good, will pay back with harm. The rights, means, it has appeared... You Know who, Petruha, after that? Could not wake?
- Execution, well that you has taken offence? I simply have decided to check up a guess...
- Has checked up? - Shura has spitefully looked the friend fool in the face.
- Has checked up, - that has easy answered. - I hide nothing! I ask you, be not angry.
- All right, have passed...
- Have gone to have breakfast?
- We go. Throw trousers, they there, on a bedside table near a door.
- Hold. Also do not take offence, well?
- I have told - have passed. What you about it think? - Rasstrelnikov has asked, pulling cold and damp jeans.
- Yes anything I do not think any more. I wish to eat. Now we will have a bite, can, thoughts what will appear.
- I am ready, we will go.
Guys have gone to a board shed of a dining room where on one of little tables there was their cooled down porridge and uncertain colour a drink designated in the menu, priknoplennom on a door, as "tea with milk". In anybody any more was not. All for a long time had breakfast and have dispersed on the affairs.
At an input in table Shura has discontentedly wrinkled a nose.
- Petruha, I wish you to congratulate, we today Englishmen.
- In sense?
- Porridge, the sir.
- A-a... Listen, your way it is possible to eat these slops?
- About it "is possible" I do not know, but the breakfast enters into permit cost. Eat, the sir, all the same is not present a choice.
Peter has fastidiously scooped cold porridge, and that was pulled behind a spoon, without wishing to come off a plate.
- Faugh... I jostle it in myself I can not, - the Muzhik took a thick chunk of bread and, having washed down with its frightening drink, is appetizing zahrustel freshen a crust...
SHura has followed to its example. Leaving a dining room, Rasstrelnikov has stopped on a porch.
- Listen, druzhishche, we will go small fishes at natives we will buy. I know, in what house sell.
- We will go, - it agree the Muzhik has nodded, - and salts we take at the same time.

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