When Dion and Daphne heard their Mother say that, they became at once quite lively, and were soon washed and ready for their breakfast, which was nothing but cold barley-cakes left over from the night before and a drink of warm goat's milk. When they had eaten it, Daphne put the bread and cheese which Lydia had wrapped up in a towel for their luncheon in the front of her dress and they were ready to start. Melas and Dromas, the shepherd, were waiting for them at the farm-yard gate when the Twins came bounding out of the back door, Dion with a little reed pipe in his hand and Daphne carrying a shepherd's crook. The sheep were huddled together at the gate, waiting to be let out. "Be sure you keep good watch of that old black ewe," said Dromas to the Twins as he went to open the gate. "She is a wanderer. I never saw a sheep like her. She is always straying off by herself. Quarrelsome too. Argos knows she has to be watched more than the others, and sometimes when she goes off by herself and he goes after her, she just puts her head down and butts at him like an old goat The wolves will get her one of these days, as sure as my name is Dromas." "Are there wolves in the hills?" asked Daphne. "Maybe a few," answered Dromas, "but they don't usually come round when they see the flock together, and a good dog along. You needn't be afraid." "I'm not afraid of anything," said Daphne proudly, and then the gate was opened, the sheep crowded through, and Dion and Daphne with Argos fell in behind the flock, and away they went toward the hills, to the music of Dion's pipe, the bleating of the sheep, and the tinkling of their bells. The children followed the cart-path westward for some distance, and then left it to drive the flock up the southern slope of a rocky high hill, where the grass was already quite green in places and there was good pasture for the sheep. It was still so early in the morning that the sun threw long, long shadows before them, when they reached the hill pasture, though they were then two miles from home. The pasture was a lonely place. Even from the hill-tops there were no houses or villages to be seen. Far, far away toward the east they could see the olive and fig trees around their own house. On the western horizon there was a glimpse of blue sea. In a field nearer they could barely make out two brown specks moving slowly back and forth. They were oxen, and Dromas was ploughing with them. It was so still that the children could plainly hear the breathing of the sheep as they cropped the grass, and the ripple of the little stream which spread out into a shallow river and watered the valley below.