A month later they went together to the Salonica district, where they bought goats, over eight hundred head. When it was time to return, Tega--for fear of attack by brigands--went ahead secretly, leaving Toli to follow on alone with the herd. The days slipped by--one week, two--Toli did not put in an appearance. What could have happened? Many ideas passed through Tega's brain. Especially after what his wife had said. At night he could not sleep. He dozed for a while, and then woke again, with his mind on the shepherd, tormenting himself, until the crowing of the cocks heralded the dawn. Then he got up; and, as he was short and plump, he took a staff in his hand, and proceeded to the nearest hill whence could be seen the country opening out as flat as the palm of a hand. At that hour the first blush of dawn glowed in the east. And slowly, slowly rose the sun. Round, purple, fiery, it lit first the crests of the mountains, then flashed its rays into the heart of the valleys; the window-panes in the village suddenly caught the fiery light; the birds began to fly; on the ground, among the glistening dew, flowers raised their heads out of the fresh grass, a wealth of daisies and buttercups like little goblets of gold. But Mitu Tega had no time for such things. His eyes were searching the landscape. Something was moving yonder--a cloud of dust. "The herd, it is the herd!" murmured Tega. He could hear the light, soft tinkle of the bells, sounding melodiously in the spring morning. And see, see--the herd drew near, the bell-carrier in front, two dogs with them, and last of all the shepherd with his cloak round his shoulder. "Welcome," cried Tega with all his heart. "But, Toli, you have tarried a long while. I was beginning to wonder----" "What would you, I did not come direct, I had to go round." The bucks played around, a fine, picked lot with silky hair, they roamed about, and Tega felt as though he, too, could skip about, could take the shepherd in his arms, and embrace him for sheer joy. As in other years, Tega kept the herd on the neighbouring slopes, on the Aitosh hills. It was Toli's business to get the bread, salt, and all that was needed, and once every two or three days, leaving the herd in the care of a comrade, he would take his way to his employer's house. Usually Tega's wife would be spinning at her wheel when he went in. "Good day!" "Welcome, Toli," the woman said pleasantly. "Tega is not at home at present, but sit down, Toli, sit down, and wait till he comes." The shepherd took off his cloak, and did not say another word.