Translation:The High Mountains/7
Foudoulis advances on his mule like a burden and not like a cavalier. And he is very pensive. Nobody mentions eating, and on several occasions Foudoulis' stomach has already struck midday.
He dug his hand into his saddlebag and found something there. He had only experienced such a pleasant sensation once before, when he had taken hold of eggs in a nest.
It was the biscuits that his mother had prepared for him, telling him to be reasonable, that is to say, to eat only two each morning.
As he put his hand inside, Foudoulis understood that their life would be short.
He ate two. “Might as well eat two more!” he said to himself. “ The wind is bitterly cold”. That makes four. Soon six. Now, he stuck his hand into the saddlebag and touched those that were left.
“When are we going to eat?” he asked the mule-driver.
Mr Stephan heard him and turning round asked the children:
“Who is it that's hungrier than the others and can't wait?”
The whole group turned and looked at Foudoulis; he made as if he were looking down and marvelling at all this water. And, guiltily took his hand away from the biscuits. However his thoughts stayed in his bag.