"It is nearly over," he whispered. "Indeed, I am in a hurry to-day," and she smiled in answer.
Slowly and now with perfect steadiness, though five minutes before his hand had been like some ague-stricken thing, he raised the musket to his shoulder, and picking out one of the foremost men who were coming down the path opposite, kept him balanced on the sight of the gun, for, with the thriftiness of his race, he saw no reason why his signal to the others should not be in itself of some little use, and as the man stepped on to the little arched bridge that crossed the stream below, fired. The man spun round and fell, and a volley from right and left indorsed his shot.
He shook some powder out of his flask into his hand.
"That is a good omen," he said. "Oh, Capsina, I am most exceedingly happy!"
The Turks had halted for a moment, and a few fired wildly into the trees. A bullet struck the ground at Mitsos's feet, burying itself in the pine-needles, and the lad ripped up the ground with his knife, and put the bullet he was going to ram home on the top of his charge into his wallet again.
"To be returned," he said, and fired, and there was joy in his heart.
A second rather straggling volley came from the almost invisible Greeks, and at that the Turks stood no longer, but broke in all directions, some following the stream in its course to the valley, some charging up the hill where the Greeks were posted in order to get back to the ships, some rushing up the hill-side again in the direction of Vilia.
"Shall we go, little Mitsos?" said the Capsina, as if she would ask him to take a turn about deck.
They were standing not far from the path, and Mitsos for answer pushed the Capsina behind a tree.
"Fire at those coming up the path," he said, "and for the sake of the Virgin remember that I am in the brushwood not far in front," and he jumped over a low-growing bush.