That same afternoon they went to the Monastery with ten “lepta” each, with which to buy and light a taper in the Chapel.
“Look at Kyria Penelope!” cried Chryseis. “She has stopped to tie her shoe lace again; it is always coming untied. Let us run on to the cave; we shall have time to get in before she reaches us!”
The magic word “cave” sufficed, and they were all off racing down the hill and up again towards the second bridge.
It was not a real cave, Chryseis jerkily explained to Pavlo as they ran; only a dark hole in the earth under the bridge, and it was not mysterious at all and did not seem to lead anywhere, but the governess would never let them look properly into it. Over on the mainland there were some splendid real caves, that real robbers and deserters had hidden in; and in the old days people who were escaping from the Turks; but the Four had only been there once and then they were with grown-ups.
“Lambro the shepherd told me,” panted Iason, “that there is one here on the island over on the other side of the hills, near the beach of Vayonia. A great big dark cave with a small opening, and you go in and in and never find the end. He says there were old swords and guns hidden there and … all sorts of things. I mean to look for it some day.”
“Will they let us?” asked Nikias, stooping to pull up a sock which threatened to cover his shoe entirely.
“Let us!” said Iason contemptuously; “they never let us! But we will go!”
The cave under the bridge was nothing but a small hole full of cobwebs and dry leaves. However, they all managed to wriggle in and wriggle out again, dirty, but triumphant, before Kyria Penelope, hot and protesting, came up to them.