Mitsos waited till he was gone, and then walked unconcernedly forward, whistling the while. At the gate the soldier stopped him.
"Yassak," he said, which means "There is no passing."
Mitsos stared and stood silent a moment, running over in his mind his small vocabulary of Turkish abuse.
"Ugh! cross-legged one, where is your hat?" he said, rudely and cheerfully. "But why should I not see my cousin?"
"There is no passing," said the Turk, and with that he drew out his pistol.
Mitsos hesitated a moment. He was quite willing to rush in and take his chance of the bullet going wide, for he held the Turks in light esteem as marksmen since the adventure with Yanni; but he doubted the wisdom of the scheme, for there were, as the horses showed, at least two more inside. So he turned on his heel.
"I shall go back home, then," he said. "Shall I find more little men there saying I may not see my father? Go home, too, my little man, if you are as wise as you are little, and eat sweets with the women of your master's harem, and wash your dirty face."
The man answered nothing, for he knew well that to fire a shot in a village of the Mavromichales was to put his own head into a nest of hornets that could sting sore. He and the others had entered the village very quietly after dark so as not to provoke any attention, and had been fortunate enough to get to Petrobey's house without being noticed. Mitsos went along quietly enough till he was out of sight, and then ran as he had never run before to the alder clump where he would find Nicholas.
"Quick, quick!" he whispered; "tell me what to do. There are Turkish soldiers at Petrobey's, and they will not let me in. Oh, uncle, this bodes no good for Yanni! What shall I do?"
"Ah, it is even so!" said Nicholas. "Sit you, Mitsos, and let us think."