The Moonspinners by Mary Stewart Page A

brought all I could carry. I should have been here a long time ago, but I had to stop and hide, because of that one.’ He jerked his head downhill, a curiously dismissive gesture. ‘When I saw him come this way, I hid the things, and came, quickly. It was a good thing you’d left the hut.’
    â€˜He saw it, did you know?’
    â€˜Yes. I guessed that he had. When I came here, he was just coming along under this ledge, and I knew he must have seen the hut. But he was still hunting . . . and I had heard no shot . . . so I knew that you had gone. I guessed you would be here.’
    â€˜Where did you put the food? We ought – never mind, Mark’ll want to hear your news first. Come along, then, let’s hurry.’
    This time it was Lambis who hung back. ‘Listen, why don’t you go for the food straight away, yourself? Just the food, leave the other things; I can carry them later.’
    â€˜Well, all right. If you think I can find the place.’
    â€˜It’s near the top of the gorge where I lost him. Follow round where you saw me go – see? There’s a goat track of a kind; it takes you along the foot of the ridge to where the stream runs down into the gorge. It’s rocky at the top, but there are trees, lower down. You can see their tops.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜At the head of the gorge, where the spring leaves the rocks, there is an olive tree. It is in shelter, and has grown big, and very old, with a hollow body. You must see it, there are no others near. I left the things inside it. I shall come when I have seen Mark.’
    Almost before he had finished speaking, he had turned away. I got the sharp impression of preoccupation, almost as if I had been dismissed, and with relief. But the nagging little thought that this brought to me didn’t last long. Even if Lambis (having presumably fed on board the caique) could so lightly dismiss the thought of food and drink, I could not. The very thought of what the hollow tree contained drove me towards it at the speed with which a pin approaches a magnet.
    I found it easily enough. It was the only olive tree in sight, but even without that, I felt sure that I should have flown straight to the food by instinct, like a vulture to its kill, even had that been buried in the very middle of Minos’ labyrinth.
    I rummaged eagerly in the hollow trunk. There were two blankets, wrapped round what appeared to be a sizeable collection of stuff. I untied the blankets, and foraged for what he had brought.
    There were medical supplies, bandages, antiseptic, soap, a razor . . . But for the moment I pushed these aside, to concentrate on the food.
    The thermos flask, full. Some tins, among them one of Nescafé, and some sweetened milk. Tins of corned beef. Biscuits. A small bottle of whisky. And, final miracle, a tin opener.
    I threw these happily into one blanket, tied the corners up into a bundle, and set off back again.
    Lambis met me halfway. He didn’t speak, just nodded at me, as he made way for me on the path. I was glad of this, as it is not easy to speak politely with one’s mouth full of Abernethy biscuit, and to speak Greek – which contains gutturals – would have been less elegant still.
    All the same, I would have been the happier for something to lighten the look he gave me. It wasn’t that the distrust had come back; it was something far less positive than that, and slighly more disconcerting. Say, rather, that confidence had been withdrawn. I was back on the outside.
    I wondered what he and Mark had been saying.
    I found Mark sitting at the back of the ledge, leaning against the rock, staring out over the open hillside. He turned with a start when I spoke.
    â€˜Here’s the thermos,’ I said. ‘Lambis says there’s soup in it. There, have the mug, I’ll use the top of the thermos. Get yours straight away, will you? I’m going to light the