The opening was not large, but they could easily crawl out. In fact it would have been safer had it been a smaller hole. Pavlo could see the purple flowers of an osier bush waving in the open air before he quite reached the opening. He was just on the point of crawling out to make quite sure of his discovery before returning by the same way, when his eye caught sight of some sort of a white rag, fluttering above the osier bush. He drew back and, lying flat on the ground of the passage so as to see better, peered cautiously out. What he saw made him nearly scream out aloud with terror, in fact it was really the horrible nightmare-ish sort of fear which came over him, that prevented a sound escaping from his lips. The fluttering white rag was a fold of the red-bearded man's foustanella! His back was turned towards the narrow opening, and he looked gigantic as he stood there in the light, a big stone poised in his hands ready to fling over the rocks down on the ledge before the entrance of the cave. Pavlo lay in the dark passage, shaking all over and not daring to move hand or foot lest he should be heard. What should he do? Oh, what should he do? Suppose he were simply to wriggle back the way he had come and tell the others what he had seen; what was the good? They could never crawl all five out of this side tunnel while the shepherd was standing so close to it. Poor Iason's mishap had proved that it was not possible to get through the blocked entrance without being struck by the falling stones. What then? Must they stay in the cave till the man was wearied out? All night perhaps? But what more probable than that when the shepherd found that his stones were falling harmlessly, he should discover this opening so close to his feet, and creep slowly through it till he got to them? Pavlo shivered coldly all over. Then a horrible thought came to him. It might be possible for one alone to creep out very softly the first moment that the shepherd moved a little off. It would not be difficult to creep silently on all fours, till one was at a safe distance! The next moment the thought turned him really sick. What! Leave them alone? Leave them with Iason wounded and useless? Leave them and let this horrible man creep on them unawares? On Chryseis who had been so good to him? On all the brave bright little comrades? Oh, no! No! No! No! The good old Zamana blood, weakened though it might be, turned in revolt at the cowardly thought.