"Yanni, too," he went on, "that lumpy son of mine, does not know quail from woodcock, and lights his pipe before he has finished his wine. Come, boys, dinner first; we will talk afterwards. Bring the mastic, son of a locust," he bawled into the kitchen.
During dinner Petrobey hardly spoke, because speech spoils food. He ate sparingly and slowly, dwelling on each mouthful as on a mathematical problem. His face grew anxious as the time for sucking-pig approached, and his deep-gray eyes bore an expression of profound thought as he laid down his knife and fork, after putting the first piece of crackling into his mouth. Then his face cleared again, and he drank a little water briskly, for, except rarely, he did not touch wine.
"Hardly crisp enough," he said, curling his long gray mustache up from his lips. "Hardly crisp enough, but creditable. What say you, Mitsos?"
The latter exhibited a phenomenal appetite after his journey from Marathonisi, and Yanni looked on in admiration, which eventually expressed itself Homerically:
"You are a good man," he said, "because you eat well."
After dinner they sat out in the sun under the shelter of the southern veranda, and here Mitsos learned what he had to do.
"Your uncle Nicholas," said Petrobey, "has told me that I can trust you completely; and I have many things to tell you, any of which, if you chose to give information to the Turk, would see me, and many others besides, strung to the gallows."
Yanni, who was lying on a straw mat near Mitsos, refilled his pipe and grinned.
"Me among them, Mitsos," he said, glancing up at his big cousin. "You will please to remember that."
But Mitsos did not answer, and only looked gravely at Petrobey.
"We shall no longer be cursed by these devils," continued he, "for the Turks will vanish out of our land like snow in summer. What you and Yanni have to do is to go through a certain district, calling at certain villages, and speaking to certain men. This first journey, on which you will set out to-morrow, will take you a fortnight or so--ah, but the victuals will be poor, little ones, but perhaps you don't mind that--and then you will come back here. And remember, Mitsos, that you will be doing what none of us could do; for two boys, dressed as peasants dress, driving a couple of seedy mules laden with oranges, can pass where Nicholas and I could not. On this first journey Yanni will go with you, for he knows the country, but after that there will probably be other work for him to do, and also for you--plenty. You will go to the houses of these men and ask this question, 'Are you grinding corn?' and they will answer, 'Corn for the hungry, or corn for the Turk?' And you will say, 'Black corn for the Turk. If you have not begun grinding, begin, and grind quickly.'"