For some distance up the ravine the path was over fine sand and easy. Then they came to a long stretch tumbled full of round, smooth bowlders. Twice they were obliged to climb steep rocks that extended from one wall to the other like the face of a dam. They pulled themselves up the end of these by means of the vines growing in the ravine, whose sides still rose sheer above them to such a height that they seemed almost to meet at the top. Finally, when Michali had clambered before the others to the top of a rocky dam, higher and steeper than usual, he gave a loud shout of joy and pointed dramatically upstream. Lindbohm followed agilely, and Curtis with more difficulty. There, perhaps a mile away, was a white village, sitting in an amphitheater, like an audience of an ancient stadium. Behind and at either side, patches of terraced vineyards lay smiling in the sun, and a flock of goats was grazing on a mountain side, at the edge of a pine forest. The mountain stream, broken into half a dozen rivulets, wandered through the streets, and then slid and leaped, like a bevy of children, down a tremendous, steeply slanting ledge, on the edge of which the hither houses perilously stood. "How do you know it's not Turkish?" asked Lindbohm. "There are no minarets," replied Michali. "Why, of course! Any one can tell a Greek from a Turkish village as soon as he sees it. Come on, then!" Michali and the Lieutenant sprang gayly forward, but soon they stopped and looked around. "Are you not coming?" asked Michali. Curtis arose and sank down again. His companions ran back. "What's the matter?" they asked in chorus. "I can go no farther," replied Curtis. "I scratched my foot on a stone when we were gathering those sea urchins, and it's swelling up in my shoe." "Why didn't you say something?" asked Lindbohm. "A man doesn't like to squeal about a scratch, you know," replied the American. "Pull the blamed shoe off for me, will you? Hold on! hold on, I tell you! Holy Moses, how that hurts!" "You'll just have to cut the shoe off," suggested the Lieutenant. "I don't like to do that. What'll I do without shoes?" "Ah, you will wear the beautiful Cretan boots!" cried Michali enthusiastically. "The yellow, soft, strong boots. There is no such leather in the world. Do you not know how Crete is famous for the boots?" "That settles it, then," exclaimed Curtis. "I won't stand this torture any longer. Here, Lindbohm, old man, just slit that shoe right open, will you?" The foot was badly swollen, and, being released from the confining shoe, it straightway puffed up to double the normal size. Lindbohm and Michali each took one of the lame man's arms, and thus they proceeded quite rapidly. Curtis held tightly to the shoe. "They cost me eight dollars," he said, "and it's a shame to throw it away." CHAPTER III A COMIC OPERA TOWN