Mitsos kicked out a leg tentatively. "I have no marked choice," he said; "perhaps I would rather fight." "I hope no need will come. Try to avoid any suspicion. I don't think you need provoke any. But if you do, remember that you must try to run away first. The point is that you should do your business quietly." Yanni turned round and looked at Mitsos. "You would prefer fighting, would you not, cousin?" he said. "But I don't see how there will be either fighting or running to do, father. We only go to friends, give our message, and pass on." Petrobey got up. "That is what I hope," he said, "but you cannot tell. Some of those whom we thought our friends may be treacherous. And now I have to see Demetri, and you boys can stop here, or you can take Mitsos to see some of his cousins, Yanni. We will talk again this evening." Petrobey whistled to the great sheep-dog, wolfish and savage, who got up, and with all his hackles raised made a second examination of Mitsos' legs, growling gently to himself. The boy sat quite still under this somewhat trying inspection, and the dog after a few moments laid his head on his knee and looked him in the face. Mitsos lifted his hand very gently and stroked the brute's ears, while Petrobey watched them. "There, go along," said Mitsos, after a few moments, and the stately dog turned and walked across to Petrobey. "That is curious," said the latter. "Osman is not usually friendly. I suppose he saw you were not afraid of him." Mitsos looked up smiling. "I was horribly afraid," he said, "but I tried not to show it. Big dogs are fools; they never understand." "You will find that men are even greater fools; they always mistake bluff for bravery," said Petrobey, walking off. Yanni got up from where he was lying and sat himself in his father's chair. He was a big-made young Greek, rather above the average height, with a look of extreme fitness about him. His movements were all sharp and nimble, like the movements of some young animal, and he rolled himself a compact and uniform plug of tobacco for his chibouk with a few passes of his quick fingers. His hands, like his father's, were long and finely made, and Mitsos watched him admiringly nip off the loose ends of the tobacco. "How quickly you did that," he said. "Will you fill my pipe, too? I am so glad we are going together, cousin." "I, too. It is good to hunt in couples. It is a halving of the cold and the tiredness, and a doubling of all that is pleasant. This is Turkish tobacco, Mitsos, and it is better than ours. Father never smokes. So when a Turk sends him a present of tobacco it is good for me. Have you ever smoked the Turkish?" Mitsos started, and a flush spread under the brown of his cheek. "Yes, the other day only. I found it very good. Tell me more of the journey."