"Tell me not a word of news, Panos," he cried, "till I have eaten. Bad news is the better supported when one has food; good news tastes sweeter after food."
Early next morning Mitsos was on the quay, having spent the night at home, but returning to the ship to ask if the Capsina would not come that day to see them. As he passed Kolocotrones's tent he came out and recognized him.
"Mitsos Codones, are you not," he said, "and connected with the clan of Maina? I have heard of that business of yours and Kanaris with the fire-ship. It was not badly done; no, it was not badly done."
Mitsos bristled like a collie dog. The manner of the man was insufferable.
"As you say, it was not badly done," he remarked, "but there was no booty to be got by it." And he turned on his heel.
Kolocotrones broke out into a great laugh. He was rather proud than otherwise at his own adeptness in matters of plunder.
"You are sulky, silent folk, you of Maina," he said.
Mitsos turned back again slowly, and let his eye rest on a level with the top of the spike of Kolocotrones's helmet.
"Little men have very fine helmets," he said.
That struck home. Kolocotrones's face flared.