It was Christmas Eve. Volodya came home by sleigh. All his family ran out to meet him. His three little sisters rushed forward. Even their big dog Penguin wagged his tail and barked happily.
Another boy stood behind Volodya. He was Chechevitsyn, Volodya’s school friend. He wore a thick coat and a scarf against the cold. Volodya told his family Chechevitsyn would stay for Christmas.
Everyone sat at the table for hot tea. Volodya talked about school and skating. Chechevitsyn said almost nothing. He looked at sugar, milk, and an old geography book on the wooden table.
“What is your name?” Katya asked him. “Chechevitsyn,” he answered. “Tell me your real name.” “Black Eagle,” he whispered. “Eagle of Mount Montifomo.” Katya stared at the strange serious boy.
Chechevitsyn and Volodya talked quietly in the corner. Chechevitsyn pointed his finger at the old map. The three sisters hid behind the door, and tried hard to listen to their secret talk.
“We will travel far to America,” Chechevitsyn said. “We will cross wide grasslands. We can see wild horses, bison and dark forests out there. We will become brave explorers one day.”
“But what will we eat on our long trip?” Volodya asked. “We can take biscuits,” Chechevitsyn said. “We will pick nuts and sweet berries in the forest when we feel hungry.”
Katya and Sonya felt surprised. America sounded scary but also exciting. To them, Chechevitsyn was not just a schoolboy. He looked like a great hero from an adventure story.
That evening, the whole family decorated their Christmas tree. Volodya cut bright coloured paper. Yet he looked sad. He often stopped his work and glanced toward his mother from time to time.
“Is something wrong, Volodya?” Mother asked softly. “Nothing is wrong, Mama.” He hugged her very tight. He thought about the coming long trip, and he already missed his warm home so much.
Late at night, the two boys packed small cloth bags. They slipped quietly out of the big house. Bright moonlight fell over the white snow. The dark forest waited far away in the quiet night.
Chechevitsyn walked ahead with strong steps. Volodya followed close behind. Again and again, he turned his head back. He watched the warm lights of home grow smaller in the distance.
When morning came, they reached the town market. They bought a small bag of biscuits. They asked passers‑by which road led to America. All the people looked at them in great surprise.
Soon a carriage brought the two boys back home. Volodya ran straight to his mother. He cried. He felt cold, afraid, and truly sorry for running away in the freezing winter.
Chechevitsyn’s father came to take him home. Before he left, he gave Katya his little notebook. “Can I get your signature?” Katya whispered. He wrote: Black Eagle, Eagle of Mount Montifomo.
Chechevitsyn climbed into the carriage and rode away through the snowy countryside. His big dream did not disappear. Children inside the house still looked at the map and thought of far‑away America.