"And why?"
"They have to be on their guard, the bailiffs are after them, they might capture them."
"Perhaps----"
The spinning-wheel spun on. The spool wound the thread, the treadle hummed, filling the room with a soothing noise.
Doda Sili said wonderingly:
"Who knows what kind of man he is?"
"Gardana?"
"Gardana."
"Not a very big man, but large enough to terrify one, with a black beard--oh, so black!--and, when you least expect it, there he is on your road, just as though he had sprung out of the ground. Didn't our Toli once meet him!"
"How was that?"
The spinning-wheel stopped suddenly. A swarm of gnats came in through the windows, and buzzed round in the warmth of the sun; and Lena said quietly:
"It was on his way from the sheepfold; he came upon Gardana on the Padea-Murgu."
"Oh, it might have been somebody else."
"It was he, he himself, with that beard, those garments----"
And so the conversation continued. Toli, the shepherd, took no part in the talk. He sat over on the floor, silent, impassive--like a moss-grown stone. Only occasionally he raised his bushy eyebrows, and a troubled, misty look shone in his eyes. Tega's wife wondered to herself, she could not understand him; really, what was the matter with him? He was brave, she knew he had not his equal for courage, when he had charge of the herd not an animal was ever lost; all the same, what a man he was, always frowning, and never a smile on his lips! There must be something with him, naturally it must be---- And breaking off her train of thought she suddenly spoke to him.
"Toli, during all the months you have been with us I have never asked you whether you are married?"
The question was unexpected. The shepherd seemed to be considering. Then he answered:
"No."
"What? You have never married? Have you no wife, no home?"
"Home--ah!" he sighed. "You are right, even I once had a home, even I had hopes of a bride, but they came to nought--what would you, it was not written in the book of destiny--I was poor."
He spoke haltingly, and his eyes wandered here and there. And after one motion of his hand, as though to say "I have much sorrow in my heart," he added:
"That girl is dead--and I, too, shall die, everything will die."
One afternoon in March, as the shepherd did not appear, Mitu Tega prepared to go alone to the fold. He brought out the horse, bought two bags of bread, and a lamb freshly killed, went to the mill where he procured some barley, and then on slowly, quietly--he on foot, the horse in front--till he reached his destination just as the sun was disappearing behind the Aitosh mountains.
The shepherds rubbed their eyes when they saw him, but he called out:
"I have brought a lamb for roasting."
"You must eat it with us," said Toli, "and stay the night here."
"No, for they expect me at home."
"Will you start back at this hour?" put in Panu, Toli's comrade. "The night brings many perils."
It was getting quite dark. Stars twinkled. Whether he wished to or not, Mitu Tega was obliged to remain. Then the shepherds set to work; one put the lamb on to the spit, and lit the fire; the other fetched boughs from the wood. He brought whole branches with which they prepared a shelter for the night for Tega--within was a bed of green bracken. Then all three stretched themselves by the fire. Gradually the flames sank a little, on the heap of live coals the lamb began to brown, and spit with fat, and send out an appetizing smell. The moon shone through the bushes; they seemed to move beneath the hard, cold light which flooded the solitude. The shadows of the mountains stretched away indefinitely. Above, some night birds crossed unseen, flapping their wings. Mitu Tega turned his head. For a moment his glance was arrested: by Toli's side, a gun and a long scimitar lay shining on the ground. He was not nervous, otherwise----He glanced at Toli.
"What a man!" thought Tega. "I have nothing to fear while I am with him."
They began to eat, quickly and hungrily, tearing the meat with their fingers, not speaking a word. Toli picked up the shoulder-bone of the lamb, and drew near the fire, to scrutinize it, for some omen for the future.
"What's the matter?" Tega asked.
"Nothing--only it seems to me--that there is blood everywhere, that blood pursues. Look, and you, too, Panu."
"There is," murmured Panu, "a little blood, one can see a spot, two red patches."
The hours passed. The dogs started off towards the woods. From their bark there might be dangerous men on the move. Toli listened a moment, took his gun, and said quickly to Tega:
"Have you any weapon about you?"
"I have--a pistol."
"Take it out, and go in there, and do not move. But you, Panu, get more over there--not near the fire, move into the shadow."
He had scarcely finished speaking before the brigands were upon them. They came stealthily through the bushes, avoiding the moonlight, but the shepherd saw them, and without waiting fired a chance shot.
"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" cried the robbers.
A great noise arose--the flock scattered, the barking of the dogs became gradually more and more excited; there was another report, and yet another. Toli's gun gave a dull sound and was followed by several cries:
"You will kill us all like this, all----"
"Down with your arms, lay down your arms!" cried Toli.
"Look, man, we are putting them down; only don't shoot."
"Drop them!"
Toli's voice thundered. His voice alone was enough to make one tremble.
The brigands threw down their arms, and advanced. There were three of them. One was quite a young man, about thirty-five years of age, with a worn face, and very pale. Blood was flowing from one foot and clotting on to his white gaiters as it flowed. Toli went up to him and said:
"I have wounded you--have I wounded you?"
The brigand did not reply. Toli crossed his arms and shaking his head asked: