The sun had come out as they sat there and shone full onto Mitsos' face, and Yanni, as gently as a woman, pushed his cap over his eyes that it should not waken him, and with infinite craft filled his pipe and managed to get a light from his flint and steel. He felt almost jealous of this girl whom Mitsos loved. It was not fit that he should go a-mooning after womankind, who were--so Yanni thought--an altogether inferior breed. It was Mitsos' business to fight, and do the work of fifty men. How splendid he had been one night at Kalamata, when they sat in the café after supper! The keeper of the house had tried to make Mitsos drunk, for the sport of seeing so long a pair of legs in mutiny, and had promised him that if he could drink two okes of wine he should not pay for them. This had suited Mitsos excellently, for he was as thirsty as Sahara. He had drunk them in less than half an hour, and, to show that he was as sober as a woman, he had played draughts afterwards with one of the Greeks there, and beat him easily in the first two games. Then his misguided little opponent had tried to cheat, and Mitsos rising up, a tower of wrath, had dealt the other so shrewd a blow over the head with the draught-board that he was fain to play no more, for other reasons than that the draughts had rolled to all corners of the café. Several men looking at the game had seen him cheat, and applauded most cordially Mitsos' method of correction. They then asked him to drink more wine, but Mitsos thanked them and refused, saying he was thirsty no longer. However, they stopped on, smoking and talking, as there was to be no journey the next day, and Mitsos had sung the "Song of the Vine-diggers" as Yanni had never heard it sung before, for his heart and voice were in harmony. Decidedly there was no one in the world like him. The inimitable cousin stirred in his sleep, woke, and stretched himself. "Oh, little Yanni," he said, "what a brute I am! Have you been sitting here all the time with my head on you? Why didn't you knock it off? But the sun is getting low, and we must be on the road. How's the head?" "Oh, it's all right," said Yanni; "a bruise like a walnut, but it doesn't ache any more. You ride, Mitsos. I can walk perfectly." Mitsos wrinkled up his nose. "Indeed! Get on the horse." And he broke out again with: "Dig we deep around the vines."