"We fell—he fell there," said Mitsos. "Come outside, Yanni. It is not good to stop here. Here, let me put my arm round you; you are unsteady yet."
Mitsos looked anxiously round as they got out, but no one was in sight. Yanni's mule had strayed into the field; and, after depositing his cousin against the wall, Mitsos went after it, and, muffling its bell with grass, led it round to the back of the mill, where Yanni was sitting. The latter was quickly recovering, but he felt his head ruefully.
"An awful bang!" he said. "Did he fire at me? My hair is burned."
"Yes," said Mitsos, "and I at him. Fancy a soldier so bad a shot; but he was made silly at the sight of my pistol, I think. If he hadn't been a fool of a man he would have first fired at me; for, indeed, he had you safe. But I suppose there was no time to think."
"That was well for me," said Yanni.
Mitsos spat thoughtfully.
"Yanni," he said, "we must think very hard what we are to do next. If Uncle Nicholas was only here! No one seems to have heard the shots, and we must get away as quickly as we can. Are we just to leave things as they are and go? Oh, do think, Yanni, and think quickly! My head is just one buzzing."
"The black devils!" snarled Yanni. "Treacherous, black devils!"
"Oh, never mind them," cried Mitsos; "they are in hell. What are we to do?"
Yanni's eye brightened.