"I run all day; now it is good to sit. Tell me about some great men,
Kyr Themistocli."
And the old schoolmaster, well content, tilted his chair back against
the sun-baked wall of the house, and told him many things.
He told him of the old, old times even before the ancients, when men
were almost like brutes, but with something manlike in them which set
them apart from the wild beasts; when they made weapons of stones,
and lighted fires by the rubbing of sticks; when they crossed over the
barrier of water by hollowing boats out of trees. He told him of the
terrible wild animals which existed in those days, so monstrous that
the heads of some would reach up to the third floor windows of a house;
and how they would long ago have devoured all the men if these had not
used their brains to defend themselves. How men followed men through
the centuries and how, little by little, their brains grew cleverer and
cleverer through much using, until at last, from those wild men sprang
the minds, and the hearts, and the hands, of Socrates and Plato, and
Aristotle, the philosophers, and Leonidas, the warrior, and Pericles,
the statesman, and Phidias and Praxiteles, the sculptors. Then, he
went on to tell him of all the poor boys through many ages who had
the spirit of the old cave dwellers in them--who would not stay as
they had been born. He told him of Æsop, who was only a poor slave
boy, so ugly and deformed that people laughed and jeered at him; and
yet his fables have been translated into all languages of Europe,
and even into Arabic and Chinese; of Christopher Columbus, the son
of a poor comber of wool in Genoa, who discovered America; of the
shepherd boy Giotto, who drew pictures on stones whilst watching
the sheep, and who grew up to be a celebrated painter; of Lully,
the musician, who was a cook-boy; of Metastasio the Italian poet,
who as a boy recited verses in the streets of Rome; and to come to
our own days, he told him all he had read before he lost his sight,
of Edison, the American, who was a poor boy, and--like Aleko--had
at one time sold newspapers to earn his bread, and of what wonderful
things he had invented, and how there were few in the world who were
not indebted to him; he told him of others--of all he could remember;
then he tried to explain to him, a little, how hard all these men had
worked, each in his own way, and how they had not only wished to do
great things, but had willed it very hard, and had gone on willing
it every moment of their lives, and how it was this great will that
had made them conquer all obstacles, and all discouragement. He told
him also how it was not enough to work, and to be brave, in order to
grow up into a great man, or even simply into a good and just one,
but how he must think as well; how he must always look for the cause,
always ask himself the why and the wherefore, of everything....
"Of course," interrupted Aleko, "I know that. If you do not you are
stupid. Yesterday, the drawer of a boy's box would not open; you know
the drawer, where all the shoe-polishes and rags are kept; and this
boy--Dino--he pulled, and he pulled, and he could not get it open, and
he was very angry, because a man got tired of waiting for him to clean
his boots and went to another boy's stand. Then I looked at Dino's box,
and I pulled a little, and it was one side only of the drawer which
stuck, so I turned it to the light, and I found that a little nail
had fallen between the side of the box and the drawer, and jammed it,
and when I pulled it out with a bit of wire it opened as before."
"And Dino was glad?"
"He was glad, but he did not look why the drawer had stuck, and when
another nail falls in he will be stupid again; he will not know how
to open it. His head is stuffed with straw!"
Then Aleko got up from the step, and gathered his remaining newspapers
under his arm.
"The good hour be with you, Kyr Themistocli!"
"You are going?"
"Yes, I want to go and see if that Anneza has found the dog yet."
"What? She has lost him again?"
"Since noon to-day, and she was trembling with fear of what her master
would say."
"You will remember, Aleko, to bring the coffee to-morrow afternoon."
"I will remember. Be easy! I have the money you gave me safe
here." Then as he turned to go, he said, "You have sufficient for
the morning?"
"No," answered the old man, "it is all finished; but for one day it
does not matter if one eats one's bread dry."
"For you it matters," pronounced Aleko. "I shall bring the coffee in
the morning, ready ground."
"Do not trouble, my boy; in the mornings you have no time."
"I shall have time, and I shall bring it when I come with the
newspapers for the Spinotti house," and without waiting for further
objections he ran down the street and up the wider one, till he came
to the railings of the Spinotti garden.
Anneza, leaning out of her kitchen window, was explaining something
vehemently to the next-door cook.
"Have you found the dog?" asked Aleko.
"If only I could find him, I would give twenty drachmæ out of my wages,
that I would! The master was like mad when he heard I had lost him;
he says the dog must have been stolen, and he has gone now to put it
in the newspapers."
"Did he give it to you badly?" asked the next-door cook curiously.
Anneza became tearful.
"He scolded me," she said, "till I have been trembling ever since."
"He did well," pronounced Aleko as he turned away, "if your head were
not fixed on, you would lose it every day."
"Wait a moment!" shouted Anneza. "Wait till I get the jam stick to
you!" but Aleko was already out of sight.
When he got back to his cellar home he folded the left-over newspapers
to be returned on the morrow, and looked doubtfully at his mattress;
Andoni, the other boy, was already fast asleep in the farther
corner. But it was stiflingly hot in the cellar and there was bright
moonlight outside, so he sauntered up the steps again and looked about
him. There were few passers-by, and the shadows of the houses lay in
deep blue-black patches on the moonlit street.
Farther down, outside a closed fruit shop, were some empty baskets,
and on one of these he sat down, his elbows on his knees, and his
face cupped in his hands. A cooling breeze came from one of the
side streets leading up to the first slopes of Mount Lycabettus,[14]
and though Aleko drowsed a little as he sat there, he did not feel
inclined to return to his cellar.
Suddenly, behind him came a soft patter and something sniffed at his
bare ankles.
He jumped up, overturning the basket.
"Solon!"
And Solon it was, not smooth and white and clean as usual, but muddy,
and draggled, and gray with dust.
"You bad dog! How did you find yourself here? Do you know that your
master is searching for you in all the town? Do you know that he has
paid money to have it printed in the newspaper that you are lost? Are
you not ashamed then? Bad dog!"
Solon did not like this tone of voice so he sat up and begged with
his dusty little forepaws. All at once, Aleko saw that a broken piece
of coarse string was tied round the dog's neck.
"Bah! Your master was right then that you had been stolen! Some one
tried to tie you up, and you must have broken the string and run
away. You are a very clever dog! Bravo, Solon!"
Solon opened his mouth very wide and curled up his tongue in a
long yawn.
"Come, I will carry you home so that you may not stray again." And
Aleko stooped to pick him up; but as he did so, a man who was coming
along the other side of the pavement some distance off, a tall man
wearing a Panama hat, called out loudly:--
"Who is there? What are you doing with that dog?" and hastened his
steps. He crossed the road to Aleko's side, and stooped over him to
see what he held.
Suddenly Solon gave a shrill, joyous bark and the man snatched him
out of Aleko's arms, at the same time giving the boy a violent push
which sent him staggering against the closed shutters of the shop.
"You young scoundrel, you! So I have caught you, have I? Do you know
that this is my dog?"
Aleko looked up. It was the man he had often seen coming out of the
big house in the garden; it was Solon's master.
"Yes," he said, "I know; but you need not push people in that way. I
was going to bring the dog to your house. Now that you have found him,
you can take him yourself."
And turning his back he was walking off. But Nico Spinotti had been
searching for his dog for the whole long hot afternoon; he had walked
up and down likely and unlikely streets; he had visited most of
the shops at which Anneza dealt, he had been to the police station,
and to three newspaper offices, and now that he thought he had found
the culprit, and that this culprit was mocking him, his fury knew
no bounds. He put Solon down and darting forward seized Aleko by
the arm and brought down his walking stick with force across the
boy's shoulders.
"You young limb!" he shouted. "You thieving little blackguard! From
where did you steal that dog? Tell me! Tell me or I will pull your
ears off!" and each word was accompanied by a fresh blow. The poor
boy twisted and writhed, but he had no chance in those strong hands.
"Leave me!" he screamed. "Let go! Why do you strike me? Leave me,
I tell you! I never stole your dog.... I found him.... He knows
me.... He came to me!"
"You can tell those lies to others! They will not pass with me,"
cried the furious man, pushing Aleko away at last and stooping to
pick up Solon. "How should my dog know a ragamuffin like you?"
Aleko, who had fallen on his knees beside the overturned basket,
put up his arm to ward off further blows.
"But he does! It is I who bring the newspapers to your house, and he
sees me every day. Ask Anneza if it be not true?"
"So much the worse if you know him! I suppose someone has put you up
to steal the dog. Now, hark you! You are not to dare to come to my
house or anywhere near it, and if ever I see your dirty face in our
neighbourhood again, I shall hand you over to the police. So now you
know!" and picking up the little dog under his arm he turned to go.
"The street is not yours!" burst out Aleko with sudden fury, rubbing
his shoulder. "And I shall sell my newspapers there every day!"
"You will! Will you? Very well, when you want any change out of the
beating you got just now, you can come to me for it! Do you hear?"
"I hear."
"Well, remember it then!" and turning on his heel he walked quickly
down the street.
Aleko was sore all over, sore in body and sore in mind. Wearily he
staggered back to his cellar, threw himself on his mattress, and there
in the dark, dropped his head on his arms and sobbed himself to sleep.