"I will fire it," said he, "because it will be best to run, and you can't run just now. Come out, Yanni, and I will show you where the horses are. Look; do you see that big white trunk at the edge of the wood? Walk there and keep straight on; you will find them two hundred yards inside. Now go." Mitsos waited till Yanni had disappeared, and then, locking the door and pushing the key underneath it, fired the end of the train and ran as hard as his legs would move after Yanni. He found him with the beasts, having taken from the Turk's horse the trappings and saddle, which bore the star and crescent, and thrown them into a thick bush. A few moments afterwards a great quiver and roar came to them from the direction of the village, and they knew that the powder had done its work. Mitsos made Yanni mount the Turk's horse, and they hurried off through the trees, meaning to make a long detour and come down upon the next village from the far side. CHAPTER III MITSOS HAS THE HYSTERICS For a space they went on in silence; it was as much as Yanni could do to grip his horse, for he still felt nauseous and giddy reelings in his head, and Mitsos trotted behind, with an incessant stick for the mules to make them keep up the pace. They were of the sedater sort, that hitherto had strolled through life, and they did not take kindly to a higher rate of going. But at the end of some half an hour Yanni reined in. "Let's go slow a bit," he said, "for we are out of the range of risks. We are in our own country again; no one saw us go to the mill except my cousin Christos, and they might pull his tongue out before he spoke. Besides, there is nothing to say. The mill blew up. The matter is finished." Mitsos assented, and threw himself down on the ground panting and blown, for the pace had been stiff. However, a few minutes' rest and a drink from the wooden wine-flask set his blood to a slower time, and he opened his mouth, and, to Yanni's intense astonishment, began to swear. He was in a white-hot rage, and he cursed Krinos in the name of every saint in heaven and every devil in hell, and labelled him with each several vile and muddy epithet he knew, and of these the Greek tongue boasts an inimitable profusion. Yanni was still looking on in surprise when Mitsos' mood veered, and he began to laugh, rocking himself to and fro. "Did you hear his head crack?" he jerked out. "It cracked like a green nut in September. No, it was more like a pomegranate under the heel. Is my head as messy inside as that, think you, Yanni? He thought his powder would make him a rich man, and the powder has made chicken-food of him. Oh, Yanni, what shall I do? I shall laugh till the Judgment Day." Yanni's experience had not included an exhibition of hysterics, but he judged that they were not healthy things, and must be stopped if possible. "Mitsos," he said, angrily, "don't make a fool of yourself. Stop laughing at once. Stop laughing!" he shouted.