“I tell you what,” said Nikias rubbing his knuckles very hard into his eyes, “it must be ‘the mad shepherd.’ ”
All the others stared at him.
“The mad shepherd? What do you mean?”
“I heard Kyra Calliope the other day telling Yanni. She said there was a mad shepherd on the hills, and that he had killed a lot of sheep of the other shepherds, and she said the mayor and the doctor wanted to tie him up and send him to Athens in the steamer, but they could not catch him, because he was so cunning and hid in the hills for days.”
“You little fool!” cried his brother, seizing him by the shoulder. “You—You—Idiot—You—Why did you not tell us when we first met him down there, so that we might have turned back. Do you think it is a joke—a mad man?”
“Did I know?” whimpered Nikias. “Did I know when we met him? He looked like all shepherds then.”
“If you had only …” began Iason, but he was interrupted by a shriek of horror from Chryseis. She was pointed to the small opening left above the rock that blocked the entrance.
There, clearly outlined against the sky, was a grinning, red-bearded face. Part of a hairy hand could be seen pushing against the stone.
Iason lost no time. Stooping he seized hold of a big round pebble and sent it crashing right on the fingers that were working round the stone.
There was a howl of pain and the face disappeared, then after a moment came a sound of retreating footsteps and of broken bushes, and stones rolling down the rock overhead.