Just then the man outside in the light stooped to pick up another stone, and as he did so, Pavlo saw the gleam of a long curved knife in his belt. The Turks, thought the poor boy, the terrible Turks of the times of the Revolution must have looked just like that. Oh, if it only were in those days! If the dreadful man were a real Turk and Pavlo's great-grandfather or one of his brave companions were in hiding as he was now! How they would spring out on him and seize him. But no! If they were unarmed they would not "spring" out. They were wise as well as brave, those old Greeks. What would they do? Palvo's mind worked quickly. They would creep slowly, slowly on all fours out of the hole, and while the Turk's back was turned they would seize hold of his ankles and pull back, ... pull hard. The attack would be unexpected, and the "Turk" would fall forward on his face. He would have to fall so; he could not fall in any other way. And once he was on his face, it would be easy, before he could see who had attacked him, to wrench back his arms and tie them. It would be the best way! The only way! Suppose he tried it! No! No! Oh, no! It was brave men who feared nothing who did such things, not little terrified boys. Then a very curious thing happened. Pavlo did not feel as though he were making up his mind to anything, but quite suddenly he unwound a thin knitted belt which he wore round his waist, and held it between his teeth, then he crawled noiselessly out of the hole and looked around him with a look in his eyes which no one had ever seen in them before. Had he been in a street in Athens, the man who stood there would have been simply a villainous looking peasant, and he, Pavlo, a small boy half dead with fright. But now, on this calm Poros hillside, the man became a Turk, a Turk of 1821 armed to the teeth with yatagan[25] and scimitar, and he, the little terrified boy, was a brave patriot of the times of the Revolution, ready to do or die. "Let us pretend," had its uses; and Pavlo had not lived a week in vain with the Four of the Red House. He crept closer, closer still. His body was not brave at all; in fact it was shaking and trembling in every limb, and the cold sweat trickled down his face; but at that moment his heart was very brave, and because the heart is greater than the body, there was a sudden lightning spring forward, and two desperate little hands clutched the shepherd's bare ankles and pulled backwards, pulled strongly, and swiftly. There was a helpless grasp at the empty air, a howl of dismay, and a loud thud as the tall man's body fell flat, face down, on the ground. Pavlo with an excited, triumphant little shout rushed forward, and caught hold of one outstretched arm which he pulled back with a jerk, but already the shepherd was groaning, swearing, and moving, and how could Pavlo hold the hand he had already seized, and manage to reach the other one also?