MacLean wondered why all the Texans he met talked as if everyone had a hearing problem. “I never would have thought that you were from Oklahoma,” MacLean said. “Hope you have a nice visit.” He started to walk away, only to stop when the woman asked if her husband could take their picture together because he had been so kind to them. MacLean posed with the woman, then her husband.

“Thank you,” the woman said. She spoke with a more refined air than her husband. In short order, MacLean learned that Gus and

Emma Harris were from Houston, that Gus had been in the oil business, and she'd been a history teacher, fulfilling her lifelong dream to visit the Cradle of Civilization.

He shook hands, accepted their profuse thanks and set off along the narrow street. He walked fast, hoping they wouldn't be tempted to follow, and took a circuitous route back to the monastery.

MacLean closed the shutters so his room was dark and cool. He slept through the worst of the afternoon heat, then got up and splashed cold water on his face. He stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and was surprised to see the Harrises standing near the old whitewashed chapel in the monastery courtyard.

Gus and his wife were taking pictures of the monastery. They waved and smiled when they saw him, and MacLean went out and offered to show them his room. They were impressed by the workmanship in the dark wood paneling. Back outside again, they gazed up at the sheer cliffs behind the building.

“There must be a wonderful view from up there,” Emma said.

“It's a bit of a hike to the top.”

“I do a lot of bird-watching back home, so I'm pretty fit. Gus is in better shape than he looks.” She smiled. “He used to be a football player, although it's hard to believe now.”

“I'm an Aggie,” Mr. Harris said. “Texas A and M. There's more of me now than there was back then. Tell you what, though, I'll give it a try.”

“Do you think you could show us the way?” Emma asked MacLean

“I'm sorry, I'm leaving on the hydrofoil first thing tomorrow.” MacLean told them they might make the climb on their own if they got started early before the sun got too hot.

“You're a dear.” She patted MacLean on the cheek in motherly fashion.

He was grinning, admiring their pluck as he watched them depart along the path that ran along the seawall in front of the monastery. They passed Angelo, who was coming back from town.

The monk greeted MacLean then turned to look at the couple. “You have met the Americans from Texas?”

MacLean grin turned to a puzzled frown. “How did you know who they were?”

“They came by yesterday morning. You were up there on your walk.” He pointed to the old city.

“That's funny, they acted as if this was their first day here.”