Summary of the fairy tale Bazhov Vasina Gora

We're not very rich here anyway. Everything we have is mountains and spoons, spoons and mountains. You won't go around them, you won't go around. Mountain, of course, grief discord. No one takes another into account, and the other, not only in their own district, but even distant people know: it is well-known, famous.

One such mountain fell right by our plant. At first, a verst, or even more, such a pull that even a strong horse walks light and that one is in soap, and then you still have to overcome the wickedness, like a scallop of the most difficult climb. What can I say, a remarkable hill. Once you pass or pass, you will remember for a long time and you will tell others.

Along the very crest of this mountain there was a line: our factory pasture ended and the state forest cottage began. Here, of course, a fence was set up and there were passage gates. Only this gate is one visibility. According to the old tract position, they could not be locked up even for a minute. Railways at that time there were no local regions, and along the main Siberian highway they walked and groaned, one might say, without a break, day and night.

The worst thing is to let the cattle go in that direction, because - immediately from the fence there was a century-old spruce forest, the most backwoods. Which cow or sheep will make its way - you will not find it, and the slopes of the mountain were not called Wolf's Deep for nothing. In winters, people walked past them with caution, despite the fact that the Siberian Highway was buzzing nearby.

You can’t trust anyone to guard at the travel gate in such a place. Reliable person required. Our community members have been looking for this for a long time. Well, we did find it. He was one of the servicemen, his name was Vasily, but I don’t know how by patronymic and nickname. From here. In his younger years he was taken to military service, but he soon fought back: he came home on a piece of wood.

Apparently, this Vasily did not have close relatives. He didn't bring his family. And so he lived as a bean in his hut, and she is just on the side where this very mountain is. According to the old situation, the soldier's pension was calculated in kopecks for a year, there was not enough for bread, but you need to feed yourself with something. Vasily adapted himself, as we say, to a sedentary craft: he chauffered a little, he also corrected the clamps, weaved baskets for sale, small change adjusted to crosses. The work is all cheap, you can’t get hold of this. At least Vasily did not complain, but everyone saw - the peasant was beating. Then the public says:

Why are you sitting here, go to the hut at the gate on the mountain. We will pay extra for the guard.

Why, - answers, - not to serve the world? Only it doesn’t hurt me on a piece of wood to drive away cattle. If you put some little boy in the henchmen, then the conversation will end.

The social activists agreed, and soon this serviceman moved into a hut at the travel gate. The hut, of course, is small, out of the field, but how much does a bobyl need: a stove to cook stew or porridge, bunks for sleeping, and a place under the window where to put a Chebotar saddle. Vasily settled down here for many years. At first, his uncle Vasya was called, then grandfather Vasily became. And behind the mountain his name took root. Not only our factory workers, but alien ones, who often had to travel or walk along the Siberian Highway with carts, knew Vasina Gora. Many passers-by knew the old man himself. Sometimes they bought various trifles from him, they joked:

You, grandfather, at least take down a mountain a year, it would still be easier.

Grandfather said to this one:

It would be necessary not to remove, but to build up, because this mountain is for the benefit of a person.

Passers-by begin to interrogate why this is so, and grandfather Vasily averted these conversations:

Grandfather Vasily had a lot of improvised children. Some ten-year-old boy from the orphans will be appointed, and he will go about this business for a year or two, until he grows up for another job, and then another will be dressed up for grandfather Vasya.

But our years, like a spring stream from a mountain, run, spin, which you can’t follow with your eyes. After a dozen years, you see, the first henchman himself got a family, and after another dozen he had his boys as henchmen to his grandfather Vasily. And so, more than a dozen of such students of Vasina Gora accumulated in our plant. Different, of course, years. Some are still completely young, others are real adults, at the very time, and there were those that have already reached their gray hair, and they all have the same sign: they are not afraid to work and do not shrug their hands in a difficult case. Moreover, they noticed that these people strive to identify their children for at least one year as assistants to grandfather Vasily, and not from orphanhood or any shortcomings, but even with complete housekeeping. It happened that they fought one with the other because of this: it’s my turn, your boy is a year old and can wait, but it’s time for mine.

People, of course, were curious about what the thing was, but these students of Vasya Gora did not hide. In their spare time, they themselves liked to tell how they were assistants to grandfather Vasily and what they had learned.

Everyone, of course, spoke in his own word, but one thing came out.

The place at the entrance gate on Vasya Gora was troublesome at all. Not only for cattle, but also for the guards, it was required to keep an eye on: high road, it is known, does not pass without pampering. Somewhere on the outskirts of the factory, another wagon driver will grab a lamb and lead him slowly behind his cart. Of course, they were afraid to score, because then you can get through to a death case. Our factory workers, too, after all, grew up on the high road, in such a time they could not spare the guards. Much easier with a live ram. It was always possible to dissuade: they picked up a stray, he himself tagged along for the bread, apparently - we can’t drive him away. And if you give it back, people will not knit at all, they will only quarrel in pursuit and threaten. The guard, it turns out, had to look hard.

Well, after all, no matter how restless it was at these travel gates, there was also leisure. The old man was sitting at his work at such hours, but what was the little boy to do? The old man did not allow to go to the forest or to the side. It is known, a soldier's bone, accustomed to the service. Is it possible from the guard? He was strict about this. The boy, then, in such idle hours, one fun remained - to look at passers-by and passers-by. And the path in that place stretched out along the line. From the top, in either direction, you can see far away who is ascending and who is descending. He looks like that, the boy looks and asks the old man:

Dude, here's what I noticed. A person will climb our mountain even from this side and will certainly look back, and then the difference comes out. One seems to be small in strength and at an age - he will go forward cheerfully, as if he had bathed in living water, and the other, it happens, in appearance can - suddenly hang his head and trudge downhill, as if someone had bruised him. Why is this?

Grandfather Vasily says:

And you yourself ask them what they are looking for behind themselves, then you will know.

The little boy does just that: he starts asking passers-by why they look around at the mountain pass. Other, of course, and tsyknet, while others answered honor with honor. Only here's a miracle - the answers are also two-way. Those who go further merry say:

Well, why not look. He overcame such a mountain - further and there is nothing to be afraid of. I will overcome everything. That's why it's fun for me. Others groan again:

Look at the mountain you climbed, it would be time to rest, and you still have to go.

These are weaving, as if tied, it is sickening to look at them.

The boy will tell the old man about these conversations, and he explains:

You see, the mountain on the road shows human strength. Someone out of the blue, maybe his whole life will pass, and so he will not recognize his strength. And if he happens to climb a mountain like ours, with a scallop, let him look back, then he will understand what he can do. From this, you see, such a person is helped in his work and live more cheerfully. Well, the mountain shows a weak person in full measure: rotten, they say, sour felt mat, is not good for soles.

The little boy, of course, is reluctant to get into the rotten ones, and he boasts:

Dedo, I will run up this mountain every day. Here look.

The old man chuckles.

Well, there's nothing wrong with that. Might come in handy sometime. Just remember that not every mountain comes out. Main mountain- Job. If you don’t get scared of her, then it will be all right.

So grandfather Vasily taught his henchmen, and they passed it on to their children. And before that, it took root in our places that Vasina Gora shows the strength of a person that the guys ran there on purpose, lying in wait for their brides. They learn, say, that the girls have gone over the mountains for berries or mushrooms, and they are waiting to look at their bride on the scallop itself: either she will hang her head, or she will sing a song.

Brides also did not remain in debt. Each, on a clever occasion, tried to see how her betrothed would show himself on the scallop of Vasya's mountain.

And now we have this mountain is not forgotten. Often she is commemorated, and not for a story about the old, but directly applied to the present:

Here was the war. This is such a mountain that it’s scary to look, but they overcame it. They themselves did not know that there was so much strength among the people, but the mountain showed. It doesn't matter how a new wide path has been opened to the people. If he did this, so much Furthermore you can do.

We're not very rich here anyway. We all have mountains and spoons, spoons and mountains. You won't go around them, you won't go around. Mountain, of course, grief discord. No one takes another into account, and the other, not only in their own district, but even distant people know: it is well-known, famous.

One such mountain fell right by our plant. At first, a verst, or even more, such a pull that a strong horse walks lightly, and that one is in soap, and then you still have to overcome the wickedness, like a scallop of the most difficult climb. What can I say, a remarkable hill. Once you pass, or you pass, you will remember for a long time and you will begin to tell others.

Along the very crest of this mountain there was a line: our factory pasture ended, and the state forest cottage began. Here, of course, a fence was set up and there were passage gates. Only this gate is one visibility. According to the old tract position, they could not be locked up even for a minute. At that time, there were no railways in these parts, and along the main Siberian tract they walked and drove, one might say, without a break, day and night.

It is worst of all to let the cattle go in that direction, because right from the fence there was a century-old spruce forest, the most remote place. What kind of cow or sheep makes its way - you will not find it, and the slopes of the mountain were not called Wolf's Deep for nothing. In winters, people walked past them with caution, despite the fact that the Siberian Highway was buzzing nearby.

You can’t trust anyone to guard at the travel gate in such a place. Reliable person required. Our community members have been looking for this for a long time. Well, we did find it. He was one of the servicemen, his name was Vasily, but I don’t know how by patronymic and nickname. From here. In his younger years he was taken to military service, but he soon fought back: he came home on a piece of wood.

Apparently, this Vasily did not have close relatives. He didn't bring his family. And so he lived as a bean in his hut, and she is just on the side where this very mountain is. According to the old situation, the soldier's pension was calculated in kopecks for a year, there was not enough for bread, but you need to feed yourself with something. Vasily adapted himself, as we say, to a sedentary craft: he made small things, straightened the collars, weaved baskets for sale, adjusted various trifles for crosses. The work is all cheap, you can’t get hold of this. At least Vasily did not complain, but everyone saw - the peasant is beating. Then the public says:

Why are you sitting here, go to the hut at the gate on the mountain. We will pay extra for the guard.

Why, - answers, - not to serve the world? Only it doesn’t hurt me on a piece of wood to drive away cattle. If you put some little boy in the henchmen, then the conversation will end.

The social activists agreed, and soon this serviceman moved into a hut at the travel gate. The hut, of course, is small, out of the field, but how much does a bobyl need: a stove to cook stew or porridge, bunks for sleeping, and a place under the window where to put a Chebotar saddle. Vasily settled down here for many years. At first, his uncle Vasya was called, then grandfather Vasily became. And behind the mountain his name took root. Not only our factory workers, but also alien ones, who often had to travel or walk along the Siberian Highway with carts, knew Vasina Gora. Many passers-by knew the old man himself. Sometimes they bought various trifles from him, they joked:

You, grandfather, at least take down a mountain a year, it would still be easier. Grandfather said to this one:

It would be necessary not to remove, but to build up, because this mountain is for the benefit of a person.

Passers-by begin to interrogate why this is so, and grandfather Vasily averted these conversations:

Grandfather Vasily had a lot of improvised children. Some ten-year-old boy from the orphans will be appointed, and he will go about this business for a year or two, until he grows up for another job, and then another will be dressed up for grandfather Vasya. But our years, like a spring stream from a mountain, run, spin, which you can’t follow with your eyes. After a dozen years, you see, the first henchman himself got a family, and after another dozen he had his boys as henchmen to his grandfather Vasily. And so, more than a dozen of such students of Vasina Gora accumulated in our plant. Different, of course, years. Some are still completely young, others are real adults, at the very time, and there were those that have already reached their gray hair, and they all have the same sign: they are not afraid to work and do not shrug their hands in a difficult case. Moreover, they noticed that these people strive to identify their children for at least one year as assistants to grandfather Vasily, and not from orphanhood or any shortcomings, but even with complete housekeeping. It happened that they fought one with the other because of this: it’s my turn, your boy is a year old and can wait, but it’s time for mine.

People, of course, were curious about what the thing was, but these students of Vasya Gora did not hide. In their spare time, they themselves liked to tell how they were assistants to grandfather Vasily and what they had learned.

Everyone, of course, spoke in his own word, but one thing came out.

The place at the entrance gate on Vasya Gora was troublesome at all. It was necessary not only to keep an eye on the cattle, but also on the guards: on the high road, as you know, it does not pass without pampering. Somewhere on the outskirts of the factory, another wagon driver will grab a lamb, and lead him slowly behind his cart. Of course, they were afraid to score, because then you can get through to a death case. Our factory workers, too, after all, grew up on the high road, in such a time they could not spare the guards. Much easier with a live ram. It was always possible to dissuade: they picked up a stray, he himself tagged along for the bread, apparently - we can’t drive him away. And if you give it back, people will not knit at all, they will only quarrel in pursuit and threaten. The guard, it turns out, had to look hard.

Well, after all, no matter how restless it was at these travel gates, there was also leisure. The old man was sitting at his work at such hours, but what was the little boy to do? The old man did not allow to go to the forest, or to the side. It is known, a soldier's bone, accustomed to the service. Is it possible from the guard? He was strict about this. The boy, then, in such idle hours, one fun remained - to look at passers-by and passers-by. And the path in that place stretched out along the line. From the top, in either direction, you can see far away who is ascending and who is descending. He looks like that, the boy looks, and asks the old man:

Dude, here's what I noticed. A person will climb our mountain even from this side and will certainly look back, and then the difference comes out. One, as if of small strength, and at an age, will go forward merrily, as if he had bathed in living water, and the other - it happens, by appearance he can - suddenly hangs his head and trudges downhill, as if someone had bruised him. Why is this?

Grandfather Vasily says:

And you yourself ask them what they are looking for behind themselves, then you will know.

The little boy does just that, begins to ask passers-by why they look around at the mountain pass. Another, of course, and tsyknet, while others answered with honor-honor. Only here's a miracle - the answers are also two-way. Those who go further merry say:

Well, how not to look. He overcame such a mountain, then there is nothing to be afraid of. I will overcome everything. That's why it's fun for me.

Others groan again:

Look at the mountain you climbed, it would be time to rest, and you still need to go.

These are weaving, as if tied, it is sickening to look at them.

The boy will tell the old man about these conversations, and he explains:

You see - the mountain on the road shows human strength. Someone out of the blue, maybe his whole life will pass, and so he will not recognize his strength. And if he happens to climb a mountain like ours, with a scallop, let him look back, then he will understand what he can do. From this, you see, such a person is helped in his work and live more cheerfully. Well, the mountain shows a weak person in full measure: rotten, they say, sour felt mat, is not good for soles.

The little boy, of course, is reluctant to get into the rotten ones, and he boasts:

Dedo, I will run up this mountain every day. Here look.

The old man chuckles.

Well, well, there's nothing wrong with that. Might come in handy sometime. Just remember that not every mountain comes out. The main mountain is work. If you don’t get scared of her, then it will be all right.

So grandfather Vasily taught his henchmen, and they passed it on to their children. And before that, it took root in our places that Vasina Gora shows the strength of a person that the guys ran there on purpose, lying in wait for their brides. They learn, say, that the girls have gone over the mountain for berries or mushrooms, well, and they are waiting to look at their bride on the scallop itself: either she will hang her head, or she will sing a song.

Brides also did not remain in debt. Each, on a clever occasion, tried to see how her betrothed would show himself on the scallop of Vasya's mountain.

And now we have this mountain is not forgotten. Often she is commemorated and not for a story about the old, but directly applied to the present:

Here was the war. This is such a mountain that it’s scary to look, but they overcame it. They themselves did not know that there was so much strength among the people, but the mountain showed. It doesn't matter how a new wide path has been opened to the people. If you have done this, then you can do much more than that.

Published in 1946 (magazine "Young Collective Farmer", e 1, 1946, newspapers "Ural Worker", March 5, 1946 and "Voice of the Collective Farmer", Manchazh, August 22, 1946). The writer considered this tale as a figurative response to the events of our time, believing that "Vasina Gora" is a reflection of those moods with which Soviet people adopted a five-year plan "in the post-war years. (From the writer's archive.)

The tale in its original short version was written on December 31, 1945. In the diary entries of P. Bazhov, the first version, or rather, a sketch of the tale, has been preserved.

P. Bazhov writes: “December 31, 1945... In the morning I had to work on the New Year’s report. It had already been printed, so the only possible amendments were to replace some words with others. By one o’clock it was necessary to give the text to the radio committee for the New Year’s rally. I decided to give a short story, but it took a lot of time ...

It is, of course, like any haste, unsatisfactory. In the part that talks about the road, it is necessary to significantly change the text. Something like this:

You see: the strength of a person is measured not only by bones and veins, but also by such slides as ours. The one who is weaker, the one from the mountain turns sour, but the real, strong one - it invigorates, rejuvenates, adds strength to him.

In general, these Vasya's Gates or Vasya's Gora are worth presenting in the form of a detailed tale, at least without fiction. I am attaching a copy of my speech here.

"Dear comrades!

Allow me, your old storyteller, in these last minutes of the evening, who is still called Vasilyev by the people, to tell you a little fairy tale about the Vasilyev Gate on a steep mountain.

In one place, at the entrance gate on the big tract road, for many years the old man Vasily sat on guard. They got used to it so much that they began to call these gates Vasiliev.

The place here was not at all calm, and some little boy, about seven or eight years old, was assigned to help the old man. More orphans. This little boy went to the old man's henchmen until he was in time for another job.

Although it was a troublesome place, it was not without leisure. The old man in his spare hours either wove bast shoes or made root baskets for sale. Well, what should the boy do if the cattle is driven away far from the gate, or, say, went to a watering hole. One fun is to stare at passers-by and passers-by.

And I must say that the Vasilyev Gates fell on the very pass of a steep mountain, and the road could be seen far in both directions. The boy looks, looks, and asks the old man:

Dedo! Here's what I noticed. A person will rise up the mountain and will certainly look back, and then the difference comes out. One, as if I was of low strength at an age, the merry fellow will go further, as he bathed in living water, and the other, young and powerful in appearance, suddenly hangs his nose and barely trudges downhill. Why is this? The old man, you know, chuckles:

And you yourself ask them what they are looking for behind themselves, then you will know.

The little boy does just that, begins to ask passers-by why they look back at the mountain pass. And surprisingly, the answers also came out in two directions. Some say:

Well, why not take a look! He overcame such a mountain - and nothing, nothing! There is no need to be afraid - I will overcome!

Others sigh again:

He conquered such a mountain! It would be the best time to rest, but you still need to go.

The boy will tell the old man about his conversations, and he explains:

You see: a mountain on the road is given to people for testing. The one who seeks fortifications behind him, she invigorates, rejuvenates, adds strength to him.

This is the end of the tale.

In conclusion, I would like to wish all comrades that steep mountain of the recently passed years has added vigor, strength and confidence to everyone for further work in the new year. Works for the glory of our motherland and its great leader." (From the writer's archive.)

Russian storyteller Pavel Petrovich Bazhov (1879–1950) was born and raised in the Urals. From year to year in the summer he traveled around his native places, and in the Urals there is hardly a corner where this miner of oral speech gold and the seeker of native legends has not been. Everywhere he interesting people knew, heard about life and delved into everything. The storyteller worked day and night. And unfading stone flowers bloomed on white sheets, good and evil monsters, blue snakes, nimble lizards and cheerful goats came to life. Researchers of P.P. Bazhov’s work call the “Malachite Box” the main book of the writer. The writer himself said: “I would like this entry from memory to at least to a slight extent reflect the immediacy and amazing power with which the tales heard at the guardhouse on Dumnaya Hill were full.” Total P.P. Bazhov created 56 tales, here is one of them included in the collection "Malachite Box".

A series: Malachite Box. Ural tales

* * *

The following excerpt from the book Vasina Gora (P. P. Bazhov) provided by our book partner - the company LitRes.

We're not very rich here anyway. We all have mountains and spoons, spoons and mountains. You won't go around them, you won't go around. Mountain, of course, grief discord. No one takes another into account, and the other, not only in their own district, but even distant people know: it is well-known, famous.

One such mountain fell right by our plant. At first, a verst, or even more, such a pull that a strong horse walks lightly, and that one is in soap, and then you still have to overcome the wickedness, like a scallop of the most difficult climb. What can I say, a remarkable hill. Once you pass or pass, you will remember for a long time and you will tell others.

Along the very crest of this mountain there was a line: our factory pasture ended, and the state forest cottage began. Here, of course, a fence was set up and there were passage gates. Only these gates are one visibility. According to the old tract position, they could not be locked up even for a minute. At that time, there were no railways in these parts, and along the main Siberian tract they walked and drove, one might say, without a break, day and night.

It is the worst thing to let cattle go in that direction, because immediately from the fence there was a century-old spruce forest, the most remote place. Which cow or sheep makes its way - you will not find it, and the slopes of the mountain were not called Wolf's Deep for nothing. In winters, people walked past them with caution, despite the fact that the Siberian Highway was buzzing nearby.

You can’t trust anyone to guard at the travel gate in such a place. Reliable person required. Our community members have been looking for this for a long time. Well, we did find it. He was one of the servicemen, his name was Vasily, but I don’t know how by patronymic and nickname. From here. In his younger years he was taken to military service, but he soon fought back: he came home on a piece of wood.

Apparently, this Vasily did not have close relatives. He didn't bring his family. And so he lived as a bean in his hut, and she is just on the side where this very mountain is. According to the old situation, the soldier's pension was calculated in kopecks for a year, there was not enough for bread, but you need to feed yourself with something. Vasily adapted himself, as we say, to a sedentary craft: he made small things, straightened the collars, weaved baskets for sale, adjusted various trifles for crosses. The work is all cheap, you can’t get hold of this. At least Vasily did not complain, but everyone saw - the peasant was beating. Then the public says:

- Why do you sit here, go to the hut at the travel gate on the mountain. We will pay extra for the guard.

- Why, - answers, - not to serve the world? Only it doesn’t hurt me on a piece of wood to drive away cattle. If you put some little boy in the henchmen, then the conversation will end.

The public agreed, and soon this serviceman moved into a hut at the entrance gate. The hut, of course, is small, out of the field, but how much does a bobyl need: a stove to cook stew or porridge, bunks for sleeping, and a place under the window where to put a Chebotar saddle. Vasily settled down here for many years. At first, his uncle Vasya was called, then grandfather Vasily became. And behind the mountain his name took root. Not only our factory workers, but also alien ones, who often had to travel or walk along the Siberian Highway with carts, knew Vasina Gora. Many passers-by knew the old man himself. Sometimes they bought various trifles from him, they joked:

- You, grandfather, at least take down a mountain a year, it would still become easier.

Grandfather said to this one:

- It would be necessary not to remove, but to build up, because this mountain is for the benefit of a person.

Passers-by begin to question why this is so, and grandfather Vasily averted these conversations:

Grandfather Vasily had a lot of improvised children. Some ten-year-old boy from the orphans will be appointed, and he will go about this business for a year or two, until he grows up for another job, and then another will be dressed up for grandfather Vasya. But our years, like a spring stream from a mountain, run, spin, which you can’t follow with your eyes. After a dozen years, you see, the first henchman himself got a family, and after another dozen he had his boys as henchmen to his grandfather Vasily. And so, more than a dozen of such students of Vasina Gora accumulated in our plant. Different, of course, years. Some are still completely young, others are real adults, at the very time, and there were those that have already reached their gray hair, and they all have the same sign: they are not afraid to work and do not shrug their hands in a difficult case. Moreover, they noticed that these people strive to identify their children for at least one year as assistants to grandfather Vasily, and not from orphanhood or any shortcomings, but even with complete housekeeping. It happened that they fought one with the other because of this: it’s my turn, your boy is a year old and can wait, but it’s time for mine.

People, of course, were curious about what the thing was, but these students of Vasya Gora did not hide. In their spare time, they themselves liked to tell how they were assistants to grandfather Vasily and what they had learned.

Everyone, of course, spoke in his own word, but one thing came out.

The place at the entrance gate on Vasya Gora was troublesome at all. It was necessary not only to keep an eye on the cattle, but also on the guards: on the high road, as you know, it does not pass without pampering. Some other wagon driver, somewhere at the exit from the factory, will grab a lamb, and lead him slowly behind his cart. Of course, they were afraid to score, because then you can get through to a death case. Our factory workers, too, after all, grew up on the high road, in such a time they could not spare the guards. Much easier with a live ram. It was always possible to dissuade: they picked up a stray, he himself tagged along for the bread, apparently - we can’t drive him away. And if you give it back, people will not knit at all, they will only quarrel in pursuit and threaten. The guard, it turns out, had to look hard.

Well, after all, no matter how restless it was at these travel gates, there was also leisure. The old man was sitting at his work at such hours, but what was the little boy to do? The old man did not allow to go to the forest or to the side. It is known, a soldier's bone, accustomed to the service. Is it possible from the guard? He was strict about this. The boy, then, in such idle hours, one fun remained - to look at passers-by and passers-by. And the path in that place stretched out along the line. From the top, in either direction, you can see far away who is ascending and who is descending. He looks like that, the boy looks, and asks the old man:

- Grandpa, here's what I noticed. A person will climb our mountain even from this side and will certainly look back, and then the difference comes out. One, as if of small strength and at an age, will go forward merrily, as if he had bathed in living water, and the other - it happens, by appearance he can - suddenly hangs his head and trudges downhill, as if someone had bruised him. Why is this?

Grandfather Vasily says:

- And you yourself ask them what they are looking for behind themselves, then you will find out.

The little boy does just that, begins to ask passers-by why they look around at the mountain pass. Another, of course, and tsyknet, while others answered with honor-honor. Only here's a miracle - the answers are also two-way. Those who go further merry say:

- Well, how not to look. He overcame such a mountain, then there is nothing to be afraid of. I will overcome everything. That's why it's fun for me.

Others groan again:

- Look at the mountain you climbed, it would be time to rest, and you still have to go.

These are weaving, as if tied, it is sickening to look at them.

The boy will tell the old man about these conversations, and he explains:

- You see, - the mountain on the road shows human strength. Someone out of the blue, maybe his whole life will pass, and so he will not recognize his strength. And if he happens to climb a mountain like ours, with a scallop, let him look back, then he will understand what he can do. From this, you see, such a person is helped in his work and live more cheerfully. Well, the mountain shows a weak person in full measure: rotten, they say, sour felt mat, is not good for soles.

The little boy, of course, is reluctant to get into the rotten ones, and he boasts:

- Grandfather, I will run up this mountain every day. Here look.

The old man chuckles.

“Well, there is nothing wrong with that. Might come in handy sometime. Just remember that not every mountain comes out. The main mountain is work. If you don’t get scared of her, then it will be all right.

So grandfather Vasily taught his henchmen, and they passed it on to their children. And before that, it took root in our places that Vasina Gora shows the strength of a person that the guys ran there on purpose, lying in wait for their brides. They learn, say, that the girls have gone over the mountain for berries or mushrooms, and they are waiting to look at their bride on the scallop itself: either she will hang her head, or she will sing a song.

Brides also did not remain in debt. Each, on a clever occasion, tried to see how her betrothed would show himself on the scallop of Vasya's mountain.

And now we have this mountain is not forgotten. Often she is commemorated and not for a story about the old, but directly applied to the present:

- There was a war. This is such a mountain that it’s scary to look, but they overcame it. They themselves did not know that there was so much strength among the people, but the mountain showed. All the same, as a new wide path opened to the people. If you have done this, then you can do much more than that.

Bazhov "Vasina Gora"

We're not very rich here anyway. We all have mountains and spoons, spoons and mountains. You won't go around them, you won't go around. Mountain, of course, grief discord. No one takes another into account, and the other, not only in their own district, but even distant people know: it is well-known, famous.

One such mountain fell right by our plant. At first, a verst, or even more, such a pull that a strong horse walks lightly, and that one is in soap, and then you still have to overcome the wickedness, like a scallop of the most difficult climb. What can I say, a remarkable hill. Once you pass, or you pass, you will remember for a long time and you will begin to tell others.

Along the very crest of this mountain there was a line: our factory pasture ended, and the state forest cottage began. Here, of course, a fence was set up and there were passage gates. Only this gate is one visibility. According to the old tract position, they could not be locked up even for a minute. At that time, there were no railways in these parts, and along the main Siberian tract they walked and drove, one might say, without a break, day and night.

It is worst of all to let the cattle go in that direction, because right from the fence there was a century-old spruce forest, the most remote place. What kind of cow or sheep makes its way - you will not find it, and the slopes of the mountain were not called Wolf's Deep for nothing. In winters, people walked past them with caution, despite the fact that the Siberian Highway was buzzing nearby.

You can’t trust anyone to guard at the travel gate in such a place. Reliable person required. Our community members have been looking for this for a long time. Well, we did find it. He was one of the servicemen, his name was Vasily, but I don’t know how by patronymic and nickname. From here. In his younger years he was taken to military service, but he soon fought back: he came home on a piece of wood.

Apparently, this Vasily did not have close relatives. He didn't bring his family. And so he lived as a bean in his hut, and she is just on the side where this very mountain is. According to the old situation, the soldier's pension was calculated in kopecks for a year, there was not enough for bread, but you need to feed yourself with something. Vasily adapted himself, as we say, to a sedentary craft: he made small things, straightened the collars, weaved baskets for sale, adjusted various trifles for crosses. The work is all cheap, you can’t get hold of this. At least Vasily did not complain, but everyone saw - the peasant is beating. Then the public says:

Why are you sitting here, go to the hut at the gate on the mountain. We will pay extra for the guard.

Why, - answers, - not to serve the world? Only it doesn’t hurt me on a piece of wood to drive away cattle. If you put some little boy in the henchmen, then the conversation will end.

The social activists agreed, and soon this serviceman moved into a hut at the travel gate. The hut, of course, is small, out of the field, but how much does a bobyl need: a stove to cook stew or porridge, bunks for sleeping, and a place under the window where to put a Chebotar saddle. Vasily settled down here for many years. At first, his uncle Vasya was called, then grandfather Vasily became. And behind the mountain his name took root. Not only our factory workers, but also alien ones, who often had to travel or walk along the Siberian Highway with carts, knew Vasina Gora. Many passers-by knew the old man himself. Sometimes they bought various trifles from him, they joked:

You, grandfather, at least take down a mountain a year, it would still be easier. Grandfather said to this one:

It would be necessary not to remove, but to build up, because this mountain is for the benefit of a person.

Passers-by begin to interrogate why this is so, and grandfather Vasily averted these conversations:

Grandfather Vasily had a lot of improvised children. Some ten-year-old boy from the orphans will be appointed, and he will go about this business for a year or two, until he grows up for another job, and then another will be dressed up for grandfather Vasya. But our years, like a spring stream from a mountain, run, spin, which you can’t follow with your eyes. After a dozen years, you see, the first henchman himself got a family, and after another dozen he had his boys as henchmen to his grandfather Vasily. And so, more than a dozen of such students of Vasina Gora accumulated in our plant. Different, of course, years. Some are still completely young, others are real adults, at the very time, and there were those that have already reached their gray hair, and they all have the same sign: they are not afraid to work and do not shrug their hands in a difficult case. Moreover, they noticed that these people strive to identify their children for at least one year as assistants to grandfather Vasily, and not from orphanhood or any shortcomings, but even with complete housekeeping. It happened that they fought one with the other because of this: it’s my turn, your boy is a year old and can wait, but it’s time for mine.

People, of course, were curious about what the thing was, but these students of Vasya Gora did not hide. In their spare time, they themselves liked to tell how they were assistants to grandfather Vasily and what they had learned.

Everyone, of course, spoke in his own word, but one thing came out.

The place at the entrance gate on Vasya Gora was troublesome at all. It was necessary not only to keep an eye on the cattle, but also on the guards: on the high road, as you know, it does not pass without pampering. Somewhere on the outskirts of the factory, another wagon driver will grab a lamb, and lead him slowly behind his cart. Of course, they were afraid to score, because then you can get through to a death case. Our factory workers, too, after all, grew up on the high road, in such a time they could not spare the guards. Much easier with a live ram. It was always possible to dissuade: they picked up a stray, he himself tagged along for the bread, apparently - we can’t drive him away. And if you give it back, people will not knit at all, they will only quarrel in pursuit and threaten. The guard, it turns out, had to look hard.

Well, after all, no matter how restless it was at these travel gates, there was also leisure. The old man was sitting at his work at such hours, but what was the little boy to do? The old man did not allow to go to the forest, or to the side. It is known, a soldier's bone, accustomed to the service. Is it possible from the guard? He was strict about this. The boy, then, in such idle hours, one fun remained - to look at passers-by and passers-by. And the path in that place stretched out along the line. From the top, in either direction, you can see far away who is ascending and who is descending. He looks like that, the boy looks, and asks the old man:

Dude, here's what I noticed. A person will climb our mountain even from this side and will certainly look back, and then the difference comes out. One, as if of small strength, and at an age, will go forward merrily, as if he had bathed in living water, and the other - it happens, by appearance he can - suddenly hangs his head and trudges downhill, as if someone had bruised him. Why is this?

Grandfather Vasily says:

And you yourself ask them what they are looking for behind themselves, then you will know.

The little boy does just that, begins to ask passers-by why they look around at the mountain pass. Another, of course, and tsyknet, while others answered with honor-honor. Only here's a miracle - the answers are also two-way. Those who go further merry say:

Well, how not to look. He overcame such a mountain, then there is nothing to be afraid of. I will overcome everything. That's why it's fun for me.

Others groan again:

Look at the mountain you climbed, it would be time to rest, and you still need to go.

These are weaving, as if tied, it is sickening to look at them.

The boy will tell the old man about these conversations, and he explains:

You see - the mountain on the road shows human strength. Someone out of the blue, maybe his whole life will pass, and so he will not recognize his strength. And if he happens to climb a mountain like ours, with a scallop, let him look back, then he will understand what he can do. From this, you see, such a person is helped in his work and live more cheerfully. Well, the mountain shows a weak person in full measure: rotten, they say, sour felt mat, is not good for soles.

The little boy, of course, is reluctant to get into the rotten ones, and he boasts:

Dedo, I will run up this mountain every day. Here look.

The old man chuckles.

Well, well, there's nothing wrong with that. Might come in handy sometime. Just remember that not every mountain comes out. The main mountain is work. If you don’t get scared of her, then it will be all right.

So grandfather Vasily taught his henchmen, and they passed it on to their children. And before that, it took root in our places that Vasina Gora shows the strength of a person that the guys ran there on purpose, lying in wait for their brides. They learn, say, that the girls have gone over the mountain for berries or mushrooms, well, and they are waiting to look at their bride on the scallop itself: either she will hang her head, or she will sing a song.

Brides also did not remain in debt. Each, on a clever occasion, tried to see how her betrothed would show himself on the scallop of Vasya's mountain.

And now we have this mountain is not forgotten. Often she is commemorated and not for a story about the old, but directly applied to the present:

Here was the war. This is such a mountain that it’s scary to look, but they overcame it. They themselves did not know that there was so much strength among the people, but the mountain showed. It doesn't matter how a new wide path has been opened to the people. If you have done this, then you can do much more than that.

Published in 1946 (magazine "Young Collective Farmer", e 1, 1946, newspapers "Ural Worker", March 5, 1946 and "Voice of the Collective Farmer", Manchazh, August 22, 1946). The writer considered this tale as a figurative response to the events of our time, believing that "Vasina Gora" is a reflection of the mood with which the Soviet people adopted the five-year plan "in the post-war years. (From the writer's archive.)

The tale in its original short version was written on December 31, 1945. In the diary entries of P. Bazhov, the first version, or rather, a sketch of the tale, has been preserved.

P. Bazhov writes: “December 31, 1945... In the morning I had to work on the New Year’s report. It had already been printed, so the only possible amendments were to replace some words with others. By one o’clock it was necessary to give the text to the radio committee for the New Year’s rally. I decided to give a short story, but it took a lot of time ...

It is, of course, like any haste, unsatisfactory. In the part that talks about the road, it is necessary to significantly change the text. Something like this:

You see: the strength of a person is measured not only by bones and veins, but also by such slides as ours. The one who is weaker, the one from the mountain turns sour, but the real, strong one - it invigorates, rejuvenates, adds strength to him.

In general, these Vasya's Gates or Vasya's Gora are worth presenting in the form of a detailed tale, at least without fiction. I am attaching a copy of my speech here.

"Dear comrades!

Allow me, your old storyteller, in these last minutes of the evening, who is still called Vasilyev by the people, to tell you a little fairy tale about the Vasilyev Gate on a steep mountain.

In one place, at the entrance gate on the big tract road, for many years the old man Vasily sat on guard. They got used to it so much that they began to call these gates Vasiliev.

The place here was not at all calm, and some little boy, about seven or eight years old, was assigned to help the old man. More orphans. This little boy went to the old man's henchmen until he was in time for another job.

Although it was a troublesome place, it was not without leisure. The old man in his spare hours either wove bast shoes or made root baskets for sale. Well, what should the boy do if the cattle is driven away far from the gate, or, say, went to a watering hole. One fun is to stare at passers-by and passers-by.

And I must say that the Vasilyev Gates fell on the very pass of a steep mountain, and the road could be seen far in both directions. The boy looks, looks, and asks the old man:

Dedo! Here's what I noticed. A person will rise up the mountain and will certainly look back, and then the difference comes out. One, as if I was of low strength at an age, the merry fellow will go further, as he bathed in living water, and the other, young and powerful in appearance, suddenly hangs his nose and barely trudges downhill. Why is this? The old man, you know, chuckles:

And you yourself ask them what they are looking for behind themselves, then you will know.

The little boy does just that, begins to ask passers-by why they look back at the mountain pass. And surprisingly, the answers also came out in two directions. Some say:

Well, why not take a look! He overcame such a mountain - and nothing, nothing! There is no need to be afraid - I will overcome!

Others sigh again:

He conquered such a mountain! It would be the best time to rest, but you still need to go.

The boy will tell the old man about his conversations, and he explains:

You see: a mountain on the road is given to people for testing. The one who seeks fortifications behind him, she invigorates, rejuvenates, adds strength to him.

This is the end of the tale.

In conclusion, I would like to wish all comrades that the steep mountain of the recently passed years will add vigor, strength and confidence to everyone for further work in the new year. Works for the glory of our motherland and its great leader." (From the writer's archive.)