Follow a Stranger

years I lived there. Very happy, earn lot of money. But

then I met the boss and he says come to Kianthos, be my

driver-mechanic-man of work. Handyman, they call it in

the States. I figure that I never manage to save enough to

come home on my own. So I accept.”

“And are you glad you came?” she asked him.

“Sure I’m glad. The boss is a great guy—generous,

warm-hearted, a real Greek. And I like cars. I was always

homesick, you know? I mean, the States is great, but I’m a

Greek.” He pulled up with a jolt and she looked around her

with great interest. They were on the mountain slope now,

the track nothing but a whitened ribbon between grass and

rocks, pitted and scarred.

“This is as far as I can take you, miss. You want I

should walk up there with you? You follow this track to the

top. But it gets difficult as you get higher. You might slip,

or get dizzy.”

“No, thank you,” she smiled. “I have climbed before and

I have a good head for heights. You’d better get back—I

think Miss Pallas wants you to drive her somewhere.”

He saluted. “Okay by me. I’ll be back at four o’clock. You

got a watch, miss?”

She showed it to him and he nodded. Then he stood by

the car, watching her intently as she began the steep climb

to the top. After a while he clearly decided she was

competent enough, because she heard the sound of the

engine, and the grinding of the wheels on stones as he

turned back the way they had come.

The climb was more difficult that she had anticipated.

Several times she slipped, her hands clutching at the face,