[Illustration: JO AT THE MACHINE GUN. ]

THE LUCK OF THIRTEEN

WANDERINGS AND FLIGHT THROUGH MONTENEGRO AND SERBIA

BY

MR. AND MRS. JAN GORDON

WITH PHOTOGRAPHS AND A MAPTAIL PIECES BY CORA J. GORDONCOLOUR PLATES BY JAN GORDON

NEW YORKE. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY681 FIFTH AVENUE1916

PRINTED BYWILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITEDLONDON AND BECCLES, ENGLAND

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

 INTRODUCTION 1

 II. NISH AND SALONIKA 10

 III. OFF TO MONTENEGRO 20

 IV. ACROSS THE FRONTIER 31

 V. THE MONTENEGRIN FRONT ON THE DRINA 47

 VI. NORTHERN MONTENEGRO 66

 VII. TO CETTINJE 85

 VIII. THE LAKE OF SCUTARI 99

 IX. SCUTARI 105

 X. THE HIGHWAY OF MONTENEGRO 122

 XI. IPEK, DECHANI AND A HAREM 145

 XII. THE HIGHWAY OF MONTENEGRO--II 169

 XIII. USKUB 182

 XIV. MAINLY RETROSPECTIVE 198

 XV. SOME PAGES FROM MR. GORDON'S DIARY 213

 XVI. LAST DAYS AT VRNTZE 227

 XVII. KRALIEVO 244

 XVIII. THE FLIGHT OF SERBIA 263

 XIX. NOVI BAZAR 284

 XX. THE UNKNOWN ROAD 299

 XXI. THE FLEA-PIT 315

 XXII. ANDRIEVITZA TO POD 328

 XXIII. INTO ALBANIA 341

 XXIV. "ONE MORE RIBBER TO CROSS" 359

 INDEX 377

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 COLOURED PLATES

 FACING PAGE

Jo at the Machine Gun _Frontispiece_

The Ipek Pass in Winter 140

Retreating Ammunition Train 276

Albanian Mule-drivers Camping 354

 HALF-TONE PLATES

Out-patients 4

Shoeing Bullocks 4

Peasant Women in Gala Costume, Nish 20

Serb Convalescents at Uzhitze 28

Serb and Montenegrin Officers on the Drina 58

A Concealed Gun Emplacement on the Drina 58

Peasant Women of the Mountains 76

A Village of North Montenegro 76

Jo and Mr. Suma in the Scutari Bazaar 110

Christian Women hiding from the Photographer 112

Scutari--Bazaar and Old Venetian Fortress 112

Disembarkation of a Turkish Bride 114

Governor Petrovitch and his Daughter in their State Barge 114

In the Bazaar of Ipek 162

Street Coffee Seller in Ipek 162

A Wine Market in Uskub 184

Big Gun passing through Krusevatz 194

In-patients 202

Broken Aeroplane in the Arsenal at Krag 220

Where the "Plane" fell 220

House near the Arsenal damaged by Bombs 220

Peasant Women leaving their Village 260

Serb Family by the Roadside 260

The Flight of Serbia 266

Unloading the _Benedetto_, San Giovanni di Medua 364

Route Map of the Authors' Wanderings _At end of text_

THE LUCK OF THIRTEEN

INTRODUCTION

It is curious to follow anything right back to its inception, and todiscover from what extraordinary causes results are due. It is strange, for instance, to find that the luck of the thirteen began right back atthe time when Jan, motoring back from Uzhitze down the valley of theMorava, coming fastish round a corner, plumped right up to the axle in aslough of clinging wet sandy mud. The car almost shrugged its shouldersas it settled down, and would have said, if cars could speak, "Well, what are you going to do about that, eh?" It was about the 264th mudhole in which Jan's motor had stuck, and we sat down to wait for theinevitable bullocks. But it was a Sunday and bullocks were few; the waitbecame tedious, and in the intervals of thought which alternated withthe intervals of exasperation, Jan realized that he needed a holiday. 

To be explicit. Jan was acting as engineer to Dr. Berry's SerbianMission from the Royal Free Hospital:--Jan Gordon, and Jo is his wife, Cora Josephine Gordon, artist, and V. A. D. 

We had a six months of work behind us. We had seen the typhus, and haddodged the dreaded louse who carries the infection, we had seen thetyphus dwindle and die with the onrush of summer. We had helped to cleanand prepare six hospitals at Vrntze or Vrnjatchka Banja--whichever youprefer. We had helped Mr. Berry, the great surgeon, to ventilate hishospitals by smashing the windows--one had been a child again for amoment. Jo had learned Serbian and was assisting Dr. Helen Boyle, theBrighton mind specialist, to run a large and flourishing out-patientdepartment to which tuberculosis and diphtheria--two scourges ofSerbia--came in their shoals. We had endeavoured to ward off typhoid byinitiating a sort of sanitary vigilance committee, having first sackedthe chief of police: we had laid drains, which the chief Serbianengineer said he would pull up as soon as we had gone away. We hadhelped in the plans of a very necessary slaughter-house, which Mr. Berrywas going to present to the town. There was an excuse for Jan's desire. The English papers had been howling about the typhus months after thedisease had been chased out by English, French, and American doctors, who had disinfected the country till it reeked of formalin and sulphur;shoals of devoted Englishwomen were still pouring over, generously readyto risk their lives in a danger which no longer existed. Our own unit, which had dwindled to a comfortable--almost a family--number, with Mr. Berry as father, had been suddenly enlarged by an addition of ten. Theseten complicated things, they all naturally wanted work, and we hadcornered all the jobs. 

So, after the fatigues of February, March, and April, and the heat ofJune, Jan quite decided on that Uzhitze mud patch that a holiday woulddo little harm to himself, and good to everybody else. Then, however, came the problem of Jo. Jo is a socialistic sort of a person withconservative instincts. She has the feminine ability to get her wheelson a rail and run comfortably along till Jan appears like a big railwayaccident and throws the scenery about; but once the resolutionaccomplished she pursues the idea with a determination and ferocitywhich leaves Jan far in the background. 

Jo had her out-patient department. Every morning, wet or fine, crowds ofpicturesque peasants would gather about the little side door of ourhospital, women in blazing coloured hand-woven skirts, like Joseph'scoat, children in unimaginable rags, but with the inevitable belttightly bound about their little stomachs, men covered with tuberculoussores and so forth, on some days as many as a hundred. Jo, havingfinished breakfast, had then to assume a commanding air, and to stampdown the steps into the crowd, sort out the probable diphtheriacases--this by long practice, --forbid anybody to approach them underpain of instant disease, get the others into a vague theatre queue, which they never kept, and then run back into the office to assist thedoctor and to translate. All this, repeated daily, was highlyinteresting of course, and so when Jan suggested the tour she "didn'twant to do it. "

But authority was on Jan's side. Jo had had a mild accident: adiphtheria patient fled to avoid being doctored, they often did, and Johad chased after her; she tripped, fell, drove her teeth through herlower lip, and for a moment was stunned. When they caught the patientthey found that it was the wrong person--but that is beside the subject. Dr. Boyle thought that Jo had had a mild concussion and threw her weightat Jan's side. Dr. Berry was quite agreeable, and gave us a commissionto go to Salonika to start with and find a disinfector which had goneastray. Another interpreter was found, so Jo took leave of herout-patients. 

 * * * * *

In Serbia it was necessary to get permission to move. Jan went to themajor for the papers. There were crowds of people on the major'ssteps, and Jan learned that all the peasants and loafers had beencalled in to certify, so that nobody should avoid their militaryservice. Later we parted, taking two knapsacks. Dr. Boyle and MissDickenson were very generous, giving us large supplies of chocolate, Brand's essence, and corned beef for our travels, and we had two boxesof "compressed luncheons, " black horrible-looking gluey tabloids whichclaim to be soup, fish, meat, vegetables and pudding in one swallow. 

[Illustration: OUT-PATIENTS. ]

[Illustration: SHOEING BULLOCKS. ]

The Austrian prisoners bade us a sad farewell, but many friendsaccompanied us to the station, and the rotund major and his rounder wifedid us the like honour. Our major was a queer mixture: he was jollybecause he was fat, and he was stern because he had a beaky nose, and inany interview one had first to ascertain whether the stomach or the noseheld the upper hand, so to speak. With the wife one was always sure--shehad a snub nose. On this occasion the major furiously boxed the Austrianprisoner coachman's ears, telling us that he was the best he had everhad. The unfortunate driver was a picture of rueful pleasure. The twoplump dears stood waving four plump hands till we had rumbled round thecorner of the landscape. 

In the train to Nish it was intensely hot. We had sixteen or seventeenfellow-passengers in our third-class wooden-seated carriage--all thefirsts had been removed, because they could not be disinfected--and thewindows, with the exception of two, had been screwed tightly down. Everytime we stood up to look at the landscape somebody slipped into ourseat, and we were continually sitting down into unexpected laps. Expostulations, apologies, and so on. Somebody had gnawed a piece fromone of the wheels, and we lurched through the scenery with a bangingmetallic clangour which made conversation difficult, in spite of whichJo astonished the natives by her colloquial and fluent Serbian. We hadan enormous director of a sanitary department and a plump wife, evidently risen, but fat people rise in Serbia automatically likeballoons. We had three meagre old gentlemen, one unshaven for a week, one whiskered since twenty years with Piccadilly weepers like a stagebutler; some ultra fashionable girls and men; and a dear old dumb womanwearing three belts, who had been a former outpatient; and severalsticky families of children. 

The old gentlemen took a huge interest in Jo. They drew her out inSerbian, and at every sentence turned each to the other and elevatedtheir hands, ejaculating "kako!" (how!) in varying terms of admirationand flattery. 

The American has not yet ousted the Turk from Serbia, and the bite fromour wheel banged off the revolutions of our sedate passing. Trsternik'schurch--modern but good taste--gleamed like a jewel in the sun againstthe dark hills. On either hand were maize fields with stalks as tall asa man, their feathery tops veiling the intense green of the herbage witha film, russet like cobwebs spun in the setting sun. There were plumorchards--for the manufacture of plum brandy--so thick with fruit thatthere was more purple than green in the branches, and between the trunksshowed square white ruddy-roofed hovels with great squat tile-deckedchimneys. Some of the houses were painted with decorations of brightcolours, vases of flowers or soldiers, and on one was a detachment ofcrudely drawn horsemen, dark on the white walls, meant to represent theheroes of old Serbian poetry. 

To Krusevatz the valley broadened, and the sinking sun tinted thewidening maize-tops till the fields were great squares of gold. We hadno lights in the train, and presently dusk closed down, seeming to shuteach up within his or her own mind. The hills grew very dark anddistant, and on the faint rising mist the trees seemed to stand aboutwith their hands in their pockets like vegetable Charlie Chaplins. 

A junction, and a rush for tables at the little out-of-door restaurant. In the country from which we have just come all seemed peace, but herein truth was war. Passing shadowy in the faint lights were soldiers;soldiers crouched in heaps in the dark corners of the station; yet moresoldiers and soldiers again huddled in great square box trucks or openwaggons waiting patiently for the train which was four or five hourslate. There were women with them, wives or sisters or daughters, withgreat heavy knapsacks and stolid unexpressive faces. 

While we were dreaming of this romance of war, and of the coming romanceof our own tour, a little man dumped himself at our table, explainedthat he had a pain in his kidneys, and started an interminable storyabout his wife and a dog. He was Jan's devoted admirer, and declaredthat Jan had performed a successful operation upon him, though Jan is nosurgeon, and had never set eyes upon the man before. 

Georgevitch rescued us. Georgevitch was fat, tall, young and genial, andwas military storekeeper at Vrntze. He was an ideal storekeeper andlooked the part, but he had been a comitaj. He had roamed the countrywith belts full of bombs and holsters full of pistols, he and 189others, with two loaves of bread per man and then "Ever Forwards. " Ofthe 189 others only 22 were left, and one was a patient at our hospitalwhere we called him the "Velika Dete" or "big child, " because of hissensibility. With Georgevitch was a dark woman with keen sparkling eyes. Alone, this woman had run the typhus barracks in Vrntze until thearrival of the English missions. She was a Montenegrin; no Serbian womancould be found courageous enough to undertake the task. After strugglingall the winter, she was taken ill about a fortnight after the arrival ofthe English. The Red Cross Mission took care of her and she recovered. 

We left our bore still talking about his wife and the dog, and fled totheir table, where we chatted till our train arrived. We found acoupé--a carriage with only one long seat--the exigencies of whichcompelled Jan to be all night with Jo's boots on his face, and we soslept as well as we were able. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II

NISH AND SALONIKA

To our dismay a rare thing happened--our train was punctual, and wearrived in Nish at four o'clock. It was cold and misty. The station wasdesolate and the town asleep. Around us in the courtyard ragged soldierswere lying with their heads pillowed on brightly striped bags. A niceold woman who had asked Jo how old she was, what relation Jan was toher, whether they had children, and where she had learnt Serbian, suddenly lost all her interest in us and hurried off with volublefriends whose enormous plaits around their flat red caps betokened therespectable middle-class women. 

Piccadilly weepers vanished and a depressed little quartet was left onthe platform--our two selves, a lean schoolmaster, and an egg-shaped manwho never spoke a word. We found a clerk sitting in an office. He saidwe could not leave our bags in his room, but as we made him own that wecould not put them anywhere else he looked the other way while wedropped them in the corner. 

In the faint mist of the early morning the great overgrown village ofone-storied houses seemed like a real town buried up to its attics infog. We found a café which was shut, and sat waiting on green chairsoutside. Around us old men were talking of the news in the papers. Theysaid that Bulgaria was making territorial demands, and as the Balkangovernments covet land above all things they felt pessimistic as towhether Serbia would concede anything, and said, shaking their heads, "It will be another Belgium. "

We celebrated the opening of the café by ordering five Turkish coffeeseach, and the schoolmaster and we alternately stood treat. Jo loaded upwith aspirin to deaden a toothache which was worrying her. 

We spent a cynical morning in interviews with people who were supposedto know about missing luggage. Both they and we were aware that thefirst hospital which got a wandering packing-case froze on to it, and ifinconvenient people came to hunt for their property the dismayed andguilty ones hurriedly painted the case, saying to each other, "After allit's in a good cause, and it's better than if it were stolen. "

Then we went to see the powers who can say "no" to those who want to dopleasant things, and were handed an amendment to a plea for a tour roundSerbia, including the front, which we had sent to them and which hadbeen pigeon-holed for a month. 

"But we don't want to see a lot of monasteries, " said Jan, as he gazedat a little circle drawn round the over-visited part of Serbia. Thepowers were adamant and seemed to think they had done very well for us. We went away sadly, for monasteries had not been the idea at all. 

Half an hour later we were pursuing an entirely different object. We haddiscovered that Sir Ralph Paget was housing about £1000 worth of storesdestined for Dr. Clemow's hospital--which was in Montenegro--and whichneeded an escort. He was somewhat puzzled at our altruistic anxiety totake them off his hands, but was much relieved at the thought that hecould get rid of them. 

We hurried to the station, rescued our knapsacks under the nose of a newofficial who looked very much surprised, and boarded the English resthouse near by. English people were sitting in deck chairs outside thepapier-maché house which stood surrounded by a couple of tents and awooden kitchen in a field. Austrian prisoners were preparing lunch, andwe were introduced to Seemitch the dog. 

Though young, Seemitch was fat and exhibited signs of a much-variedancestry. The original Seemitch, an important Serb with long goldteeth, was very indignant that a dog, and such a dog, should be calledafter him, so Sir Ralph arranged that of the two other puppies oneshould be called after him and the other after Mr. Hardinge hissecretary. Thus the man Seemitch's dignity was restored. 

At the station, to our great joy, we met two American doctors fromZaichar. One we had mourned for dead and were astonished to see him, shadow-like, stiff-kneed, and sitting uncomfortably on a chair in themiddle of the platform. Months before he had pricked himself with aneedle while operating on a gangrenous case, and had since lainunconscious with blood-poisoning. 

While we were cheering over his recovery, a little Frenchman slippedinto our reserved compartment, which was only a coupé, and had seizedthe window seat. Jan found him lubricating his mouth, already full ofdinner, with wine from a bottle. As he showed no signs of seeing reasonfrom the male, Jo tried feminine indignation. "That seat is mine, " shesnapped to his back-tilted head. 

"Good. I exact nothing, " he said, wiping his moustache upwards. Shesuggested that if any exacting was to be done she possessed theexclusive rights. 

"Quel pays, " he answered. Jo thought he was casting aspersions onEngland and on her as the nearest representative, and the air becamedistinctly peppery. The Frenchman hurriedly explained that he wasalluding to Serbia, so they buried the hatchet and became acquaintances. 

 * * * * *

Uskub, or Skoplje, and one hour to wait. All about the great plains themountains were just growing ruddy with the dawn, and we gulped boilingcoffee at the station restaurant. 

One of the American doctors seemed restless. Some one had told him itwas advisable to keep an eye on the luggage. They began to shunt thetrain, and soon he was stumbling about the sidings in a resolute attemptnot to lose sight of the luggage van. We sympathetically wished him goodluck and walked past into the Turkish quarter, adopted by two dogs whichfollowed us all the way. We had a hurried glimpse of queer-shaped, many-coloured houses, trousered women, and a general Turkishness. 

We returned to find our American friend furious, full of the superiormethods of luggage registration in the States. 

We had beer with him at the frontier, delicious cool stuff with amollifying influence. He told us he held the record for one month'shernia operations in Serbia. We were later to meet his rival, a Canadiandoctor, in Montenegro. 

Locked in the train, we awaited the medical examination, and satfeeling self-consciously healthy. At last the Greek doctor opened thedoor, glanced at a knapsack, and vanished. We were certified healthy. 

It was a beautiful dark blue night when we arrived at Salonika. Crowdsof people were dining at little tables which filled the streets off thequay, in spite of the awful smells which came up from the harbour. 

It is impossible to sleep late in Salonika. Soon after dawn childrenpossess the town--bootblacks, paper-sellers, perambulating drapers'shops; all children crying their wares noisily. The only commodity thatthe children don't peddle is undertaken by mules laden with glassfronted cases hanging on each side and which are filled with meat. 

We breakfasted in the street, revelling in the early morning and shooingaway the children, who never gave us a moment's grace. In self-defencewe had our boots blacked, for the ambulating bootblack molests no longerthe owner of a well-polished pair of boots. It is queer to walk about ina town where one-third of the population is only pecuniarily interestedin the momentary appearance of feet and never look at a face, like theman with the muckrake with eyes glued on life as it is led two inchesfrom the ground. 

When we had finished searching for disinfectors and dentists wewandered up the hill through the romantic streets. Jan sketched busily, but toothache had rather sapped Jo's industry, and she generally foundsome large stone to sit on, whence to contemplate. 

An old woman's face, peering round the doorway, discovered her sittingon the doorstep, a Greek dustman gazing stupidly at her. 

In two minutes they were talking hard. The old woman was a Bulgarian, but they were able to understand each other. What Jo told the old womanwas translated to the dustman, and when Jan came up they were introducedeach to the other, the dustman with his broom bowing to the ground likesome old-time court usher. 

Once a Greek woman offered a chair to Jo. She was much embarrassed, asthe only Greek words she had picked up were "How much?" and "Yetanother;" and as both seemed unsuitable she tried to put her gratitudeinto the width of her smile. 

We scrambled on ever afterwards through streets which were more likecliff climbs than roads. The sun grew red till all Salonika lay at ourfeet a maze of magenta shadow. We sat down in an old Turkish cemetery, where we could watch the old wall sliding down to plains of gold, where, falling into ruins, it lent its degraded stones for the construction ofTurkish hovels. 

A kitten with paralysed hind legs crawled up to us and accepted a littlerubbing. When dusk came we moved on, marvelling at the inexhaustiblepicturesqueness of Salonika. 

As we clambered down the breakneck paths, the priests were illuminatingthe minarets with hundreds of twinkling lights. 

The next day was the Feast. Mahommedans were everywhere. By the women'strousers, which twinkled beneath the shrouding veils, one could see thatthey were gorgeously dressed. Befezzed men were lounging and smoking inall the café's. 

In the evening once more we wandered up through the old Turkish quarter. We heard a curious noise like a hymn played by bagpipes, rhythmicallyaccompanied in syncopation by a very flabby drum. Round the corner camefour jolly niggers blowing pipes, and the drummer behind them. Very slimyoung men with bright sashes and light trousers were twisting, posturing, and dancing joyfully. One of them threw to Jo the mostgraceful kiss she had ever seen. 

We left Salonika in the morning, having been wakened by new sounds. Thousands of marching feet, songs. This was puzzling. 

In the train a young Greek told us that his nation had mobilized againstthe Bulgars, but that it was not very serious. He said that there hadbeen very friendly feeling in Greece for England, but that we had doneour best to kill it. 

"You see, monsieur, " he explained, "your offer to give away our land. Itis not yours to give. You say that does not matter, but that colonies, great colonies in Africa will replace the small part of land that we maysurrender. Kavalla is more valuable to Grecian hearts than all Africa, for how could we desert our Grecian brothers and place them beneath therule of the Turk or Bulgar?"

On the train were more American doctors. One had just arrived, and wasstill full of enthusiasm for scenery and sanitation. Also there wasPrincess ---- surrounded by packing cases. Some months earlier she hadvisited our hospitals in Vrntze and she had asked if one of our V. A. D. 'scould be sent to her as housemaid. Seeing her in the station, Joinvoluntarily ran over in her mind, was she "sober, honest andobliging?"

The American doctors and we picnicked together. We ate bully beef and ahuge water melon. The heat was awful. The velvet seats seemed to invadeone's body and come through at the other side. One of the doctors sat onthe step of the train, and Jo found him nodding and smiling as hedreamt. She rescued him before he fell off. 

After twelve hours they left us. Uskub once more and an hour to wait. Wesat behind trees in boxes on the platform and ate omelet with a niceold Jew and his ten-year-old daughter, who already spoke five languages. 

Then to sleep. We found our half coupé contained a second seat whichcould be pulled down, so we each had a bed. At four in the morning wewere awakened by the most awful imitation of a German band. 

What had happened? We looked out. It was barely dawn, and a wretchedlittle orchestra was grouped at the edge of the tiny station. Everyinstrument was cracked and was tuned one-sixteenth tone different fromits companions. What it lacked in musical ability it made up in energy. 

Why, oh, _why_ at that hour, we never found out. Perhaps it was inhonour of the Princess, poor lady!

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III

OFF TO MONTENEGRO

Back to Nish in the rain, and Jo was wearing a cotton frock. There maybe more dismal towns than this Nish, but I have yet to see them, andthis, although the great squares were packed with gaily colouredpeasants--some feast, we imagined--carts full of melons, melons on theground, melons framing the faces of the greedy--cerise green-rind moonsprojecting from either cheek. The Montenegrin consul was not at home, sooff we went to the Foreign Office to give a letter to Mr. Grouitch, whosent us to the Sanitary Department of the War Office (henceforth knownas S. D. W. O. ). S. D. W. O. Wouldn't move without a letter from "Sir Paget. "We got the letter from "Sir Paget" and back to the S. D. W. O. , to find itshut in our faces, and to learn that it did not reopen till four. 

Then came the matter of Jo's tooth. This abscess had been nagging allthe time, it had vigorously tried to get between Jo and the scenery. Wehad sought dentists in Salonika, rejecting one because his hall was toodirty, a second because she (yes, a she) was practising on her father'scertificates, the third, a little Spaniard, had red-hot pokered thegums thereof and only annoyed it. But we had heard there was a Russiandentist in Nish, a very good one. The Russian dentist turned out to be agirl, and tiny--she spoke no Serb, but Jo managed, by means of thesecond cousinship of the language, to make out what she said in Russian. 

[Illustration: PEASANT WOMEN IN GALA COSTUME--NISH. ]

"The tooth must come out, " squeaked the small dentist. 

"Can't you save it?" prayed Jo; "it's the best one I've got, and the oneto which I send all the Serbian meat. "

"It must come out, " squeaked the Russ. 

"Can't you save it?" prayed Jo. 

"It must come out, " reiterated the Russ. 

"You're very small, " said Jo, doubtfully. 

This annoyed the dentist. She pushed unwilling Jo into a chair, produceda pair of pincers, and, oh, woe! she wrenched to the north, she wrenchedto the south, she wrenched to the east, and there was the tooth, nearlyas big as the dentist herself. 

"I never can eat Serbian meat again, " murmured Jo as she mopped hermouth. 

After tea we returned to the S. D. W. O. , and by means of our letter andour Englishness we got in front of all the unfortunate people who hadbeen waiting for hours, and received our passes, etc. , immediately. 

Sir Ralph Paget's storekeeper wouldn't work on Sunday, so we had alsoto rest, and we celebrated by staying in bed late and going for a walkin the afternoon with an Englishman who was _en route_ for Sofia. Wecame to a little village where every house was surrounded by high wallsmade of wattle. The women soon crowded round, imagining Mr. B---- adoctor. Jo pretended to translate, and gave advice for a girl withconsumption, and an old woman whose hand was stiff from typhus, and wehad to give the money for the latter's unguent. For the consumptive shesaid, "Open the windows, rest, and don't spit"; but that isn't apeasant's idea of doctoring: they want medicine or magic, one or theother, which doesn't matter. 

The train started "after eight" on Monday evening. The English boys atthe Rest house were very good to us, adding to our small stock ofnecessities a "Tommy's treasure, " two mackintosh capes, and some oxocubes. One youth said, "You won't want to travel a second time on aSerbian luggage train"; then ruefully, "I've done it! The shunting, phew!"

A Serbian railway station is a public meeting-place; along the platform, but railed off from the train, is a restaurant which is one of thefavourite cafés of the town. It is such fun to the still childishSerbian mind to sit sipping beer or wine and watch the trains run about, and hear the whistles. We had our supper amongst the gay crowd, andthen pushed out into the darkened goods station to find our travellingbedroom, for we were to sleep in the waggons--beds and mattresses havingbeen provided--and we had borrowed blankets from the Rest house. 

We found our truck and climbed in. There were certainly beds enough, forthere were thirty light iron folding bedsteads piled up at one end. Wechose two, and, not satisfied with the stacking of the others, Janrepiled them, with an eye on what our friend had said about Serbianshunting. Even then Jo was not happy about them. 

We sat on our beds, reading or staring out of our open door at thetwinkle of the station lights, the moving flares of the engines, and thefountains of sparks which rushed from their chimneys; listening to thechains of bumps which denoted a shunting train. We heard another chainof bumps, which rattled rapidly towards us and suddenly--a most awfulCRASH. The candle went out, and we were flung from bed on to the floor. Our truck hurtled down the line at about thirty miles an hour, andsuddenly struck some solid object. Another wild crash, and the wholetwenty-eight beds flung themselves upon the place where we had been, andsmashed our couches to the ground. 

We have read stories of the Spanish Inquisition about rooms which growsmaller, and at last crush the unfortunate victim to a jelly: we cannow appreciate the feeling of the unfortunate victim aforesaid. Therewere piles of packing-cases at either end of the van, and for the nexthour, as we were hurtled up and down by the Serbian engine-driver, ateach crash these packing-cases crept nearer and nearer. The beds hadfallen across the door, so it was impossible to escape. When the lowercases had reached the beds they halted, but the upper ones still crepton towards us. In the short, wild intervals of peace Jan tried to pushthe cases back and restore momentary stability. In addition todiminishing room, we were flung about with every crash, landing on thecorner of a packing-case, on the edge of an iron bedstead, and with eachcrash the light went out. We will give not one jot of advantage to yourprisoner in the Spanish Inquisition, save that we escaped whereas he didnot. 

The engine-driver tired of the sport just in time to save our limbs, ifnot lives, and he dragged the train out of the station into the dark. 

At Krusevatch we halted for the next day. After a discussion with thestation-master, who asked us to come down first at six p. M. , then atfour, then at one, and lastly in two hours, at nine a. M. We strolled uptowards the town. There was an old beggar on the road, and he wascuddling a "goosla, " or Serbian one-stringed fiddle, which sounds notunlike a hive of bees in summer-time, and is played not with the tips ofthe fingers, as a violin, but with the fat part of the first phalanx. Assoon as he heard our footsteps he began to howl, and to saw at hismiserable instrument; and as soon as he had received our contribution hestopped suddenly. We were worth no more effort; but we admired hisfrankness. 

Krusevatz market-place is like the setting of a Serbian opera. Thehouses are the kind of houses that occupy the back scenery of opera, andin the middle is an abominable statue commemorating something, which isjust in the bad taste which would mar an opera setting. There was an oldman wandering about with two knapsacks, one on his back and one on hischest, and from the orifice of each peered out innumerable ducks' heads. We returned to the station at nine, but were told that nothing could bedone till one. So we went up to the churchyard, spread our mackintoshes, and got a much-needed sleep. The church is very old, but isn't much tolook at, and we, being no archæologists, would sooner look at that ofTrsternick, though it is modern. 

We returned to the station to unload our trucks, for at this point thebroad-gauge line ceases, and there is but a narrow-gauge into themountains. A band of Austrian prisoners were detailed to help us, andthey at once recognized us, and knew that we came from Vrntze. They werein a wretched condition: their clothes were torn, they said that theyhad no change of underclothes, and were swarming with vermin, nor couldthey be cleaned, for they worked even on Sundays, and had no time towash their clothes. They begged us for soap, and asked us to send them achange of raiment from Vrntze. We explained sadly that we were not goingback just yet, but we could oblige them with the soap, for a case hadbeen broken open, and the waggon was strewn with bars. We also gave someto the engine-driver, as a bribe to shunt us gently. 

We imagined that the soap had burst because of the shunting, but in oursecond truck discovered that this same shunting had been strangelyselective. It had, for instance, opened a case of brandy, it had burst abox of tinned tongue, and even opened some of the tins which were strewnin the truck. And yet the truck had been sealed, both doors. Severalcases of biscuits, too, had been abstracted, and all this must havehappened under the very noses of the Englishmen who had supervised theloading. Some of the prisoners said that they were starving, so wedistributed our spare crusts amongst them, and they ate them greedilyenough. 

In the fields by the railway were queer pallid green plants whichpuzzled us. They were like tall cabbages, and shone with a curiousghostly intensity in the gloaming. 

We dangled our feet over the side of our waggon watching the flittingscenery. At one point we passed a train in which were other Englishpeople, who stared amazed at us and waved their hands as we disappeared. Dusk was down when we passed Vrntze, and we reached the gorges of Ovcharin the dark. We thundered through tunnels and out over hangingprecipices, the river beneath us a faint band of greyish light in theblackness of the mountains. 

Uzhitze in the morning at 4. 30; it was cold and wet. Jan wanted to hurryoff to the hotel, but Jo sensibly refused, and we settled down till adecent hour. 

The hotel was a huge room with a smaller yard; on the one side of theyard were the kitchens, etc. , and on the other a string of bedrooms. Wethen crossed the big square to the Nachanlik's (or mayor's) office. 

Outside the mayor's office we found an old friend. He had been a patientin our hospital, and gangrene, following typhus, had so poisoned hislegs that both were amputated. He had been discharged the day before, and had travelled up from Vrntze, some eight hours, in an open truck. The Serbian authorities had brought him from the station and had proppedhim on a wooden bench outside the mayor's office, where he had remainedall night, and where we found him. He was a charming fellow, though verysilent. Once when Jo had remarked upon this silence he had answered, "When a man has no longer any legs it is fitting that he should besilent. "

He was waiting for his father, who lived twelve hours away in themountains. The old man came with a donkey, and there was a mostaffecting meeting between the old father and his poor mutilated son. Tears flowed freely on either side, for Serbs are still simple enough tobe unashamed of emotion. The donkey had an ordinary saddle, on to whichour friend was hoisted. He balanced tentatively for a moment, then shookhis head. A pack-saddle was substituted. 

"It is hard, " he said, "young enough, and yet like a useless bale ofgoods. "

Twenty hours he had endured, and yet had twelve to go--thirty-two hoursfor a man without legs. This will show of what some Serbs are made. 

Within the office we found a professor whom we had met before, and whowas acting as assistant mayor. We took him to the station and estimatedthat thirty-two waggons would deal with our stuff. 

[Illustration: SERB CONVALESCENTS AT UZHITZE. ]

Jo and Jan went for a stroll, Uzhitze, especially in the backstreets, is like a Dürer etching--that one of the Prodigal Son, forinstance, all tiny, peaky-roofed houses. We took a siesta in theafternoon, but Jan was dragged out to talk to our professor, whoexplained that it was impossible for the Serbian Government to findthirty-two ox-carts at once, so the convoy must make two journeys. Healso said that horses would be provided for us, and that we would taketwo or three days to do the trip, but that the ox-waggons would be atleast seven, which was death to our romantic dream of toilinglaboriously up almost inaccessible mountains at the head of strainingox-carts, sleeping by the roadside, brigands, and all that. 

We went down to the station, unloaded the truck and checked the numbers. A few were missing, but not so many as we had expected. 

A regiment of soldiers were called up; at a word of command they pouncedupon our packing-cases and hurried them off to a storehouse. The smallercases were left to go on donkeys, two on either side. 

The professor dined with us. He is an Anglophile, and was determinedafter the war to go to England in order to discover the secret of hergreatness. He had a theory that it lay in our educational laws, which hewanted to transplant into Serbia wholesale. Jan thought not, andsuggested that it might lie even deeper than that. 

Next day was a Prazhnik, or feast day, and the great square was crowdedwith peasantry in their beautiful hand-woven clothes. There weresoldiers straight back from the lines chaffing and flirting with thepretty girls, and presently a group began to dance the "Kola" about aman who played a pipe. It is not difficult to dance the Kola. You joinhands till a ring is formed, and then shuffle round and round. If youhave aspirations to style you fling your legs about as much as spacewill allow, and we noticed how much better the men danced than thegirls, who were almost all very clumsy. 

We were to be called at six, so went to bed early, and in spite of theodours from the yard slept soundly. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV

ACROSS THE FRONTIER

We got up in good time, breakfasted, but there was no sign of horses. After waiting two hours a square man was brought up to us by the waiterand introduced as our guide. The professor, who had promised to see usoff, was apparently clinging to his bed, for he did not come. Our guidewas a taciturn, loose-limbed fellow, but had nice eyes and a charmingmanner; he helped us on to our horses, and off we went. Jan was ratheranxious at the start, for he had done very little riding sincechildhood; but his horse was quiet, and soon he had persuaded himselfthat he was a cavalier from birth. Jo was riding astride for the secondtime in her life. 

We took the road to Zlatibor (golden hill). There was a heavy mist, thehills were just outlined in faint washes on the fog, and as we mountedthe zig-zag path, higher and higher, the town became small and fairylikebeneath us; and a soldiers' camp made a queer chessboard on the green ofthe valley. Jo's horse cast a shoe almost at the start, but the guidesaid that it did not matter. We went on and ever up, our horsesclambering like goats. The scenery was on the whole very English, andnot unlike the Devonshire side of Dartmoor. 

Our guide took us a two mile detour to show us his house. Later wereached a tiny village with a queer church. We off-saddled for a moment, and were welcomed by the inhabitants, who gave us Turkish coffee andplum brandy (rakia), while in exchange we made them cigarettes ofEnglish tobacco. At sixteen kilometres we reached a larger village, where we decided to lunch. We were astonished by the sudden appearanceof a French doctor. He was delighted to see us, more so when he foundthat we both spoke French, and invited us to coffee. We lunched with ourguide at the local inn. We ordered pig; indeed there was nothing else toorder. 

"How much?" said mine host. 

"For three, " answered we. 

"But how much is that?" replied mine host. "You see, each man eatsdifferently. " So we ordered one kilo to go on with. 

Half a pig was wrenched from a spit in front of the big fire, carriedsizzling outside to the wood block, where the waiter hewed it apart withthe axe. 

We had discovered peculiarities in our horses. They had conscientiousobjections to going abreast, and always walked single file; this wasowing to the narrowness of the mountain paths. Jo's horse, which somehowlooked like Monkey Brand, insisted on taking the second place, and wouldby no means go third. At last we reached the top of Zlatibor--which getsits name from a peculiar golden cheese which it produces. The view islike that from the Cat and Fiddle in Derbyshire, only bigger in scale, and from thence the ride began to be interminable. It grew darker, wewalked down the hills to ease our aching knees, and Jan decided thathorse riding was no go. 

Finally the guide decided that it was too late to reach Novi Varosh thatnight, and so the direction was altered. The road grew stony and morestony. A bitter breeze came up with the evening. We came to a greenvalley, at the end of which was a rocky gorge, down which ran thetwistiest stream: it seemed as though it had been designed by a lump ofmercury on a wobbling plate. We turned from the gorge on to a hill sorocky that the path was only visible where former horse-hoofs hadstained the stones with red earth. 

The village consisted of an enormous school, a little church, soldiersencamped round fires in the churchyard, and seven or eight woodenhovels. Our guide stopped at the door of the dirtiest and rapped. Afurtive woman's face peered out into the gloom. We climbed painfullyfrom our saddles, for we had been thirteen hours on the road. 

"Beds?" said the guide to the woman. 

"Good Lord!" thought we. 

She shook her head dolefully and said, "Ima, " which means "there is. "Serbians nod for no. The woman slid out into the night and passed toanother building, climbed the stairs to a veranda and disappeared. 

It grew colder, the guide was busy unharnessing the horses, so shiveringwe sought refuge in the dirty house, which was not quite so bad withinas we had feared. It was furnished with a long table and two benchesonly, and was lighted by a small fire which was burning on a huge openhearth, and which gave no heat at all. The woman came back and led us tothe other house for supper, which was boiled eggs, and the guidegenerously shared his own bread with us, as we had none. There was nowater to drink, and Jo tried, not very successfully, to quench herthirst with rakia. 

There were but two beds, and on inquiry finding that there was no placefor the guide, we allotted one bed to him. On our own bed the sheets hadevidently not been changed since it was first made, and the pillow whichonce had been white was a dark ironclad grey. We undid our mackintoshesand spread them over both counterpane and pillow. We lay down clothed aswe were, and by the time we had finished our preparations the guide wasalready snoring. 

As soon as the light was turned out the whole room began to tick liketen agitated clocks, and all about us in the darkness began strangenoises of life: rats scampered in all directions and were finallyhurdling over our heads. We had taken some aspirin to ward off thestiffness of unaccustomed exercise, but we were sore, and the narrownessof the bed forced us to lie on our backs; exhaustion, however, conqueredall discomforts, and we slept. Jo awoke in the night and yelped to findthat the mackintosh had slipped and that her head was resting on thepillow. 

We were up again at 5. 30, and Vladimir, the guide, suggested that weshould breakfast at Novi Varosh, four hours on; but our stomachs werenot of cast iron, and we clamoured for eggs. We got them, leftNegbina--that was the name of the village--about seven, and once moreadventured on the road. 

By eight we had passed the old Serbian frontier: the country was growingmore interesting, like the foothills of the Tyrol; on the streams wereinefficient-looking old wooden mills, the water rushing madly down aslope and hitting a futile little wheel which turned laboriously. 

Novi Varosh, with roofs of weathered wood gleaming purplish amongst thetrees, was a wonderful little town, and quite unlike any other we hadseen; clean without, and if the energy of its citizens at the villagepump is a good sample, clean within also, for Serbia. Here are Turkstoo: ladies in veil and trousers, and trousered kiddies with clothes oforange, yellow and purple. Twice in the streets we were stopped byauthority. Our lunch was well cooked, one can clearly see this has notbeen Serbia for long, for the Serbs are the worst eaters in the world. Jo gave medical advice to a Serb, and on once more. 

On the road were travellers never ending in their variety, and onefather was mounted with a pack behind him, and on the top of the packhis little daughter clad in many coloured cottons, clasping him tightround the neck and peering inquisitively from behind his ear. 

About three p. M. We reached the Lim. The road climbs to a great height, and the peasants in their gay costumes were reaping, some of the fieldsso steep that we wondered how they stood upon them; on the oppositecliff was an old robber castle like a Rhine fortress. 

The Serbian town of Prepolji introduced itself by six Turks lying bythe roadside, then there were three Turkish families, afterwards anassorted dozen of small girls in trousers, finally, an old man dodderingalong in a turban and a veiled beggar woman, who demanded backsheesh. "Where are the Serbs?" we thought. 

The Greek church looked as if it had been new built, so that the Serbscould claim Prepolji as a Christian town, and had a biscuit tin roof notyet rusted. 

Our hotel was like that where Mr. Pickwick first met Sam Weller, a largeopen court with a crazy wooden balcony at the second story, and thebedrooms opening on to the balcony. When we opened our knapsacks to getout washing materials, we found that the heat of the horse had meltedall the chocolate in Jan's, and it had run over everything. It was amess, but chocolate was precious, and every piece had to be rescued. Wehad only been ten hours in the saddle, but we descended stiffly, andwere pounced on by a foolish looking man, with a head to which Jo tookimmediate offence. This fellow attached himself to us during the wholeof our stay, and was an intolerable nuisance; we nicknamed him "gluepot, " and only at our moment of departure discovered that he was themayor who had been trying to do us honour. 

The next day was Sunday, and the village full of peasants. Stiff-leggedand groaning a little within ourselves we walked about the town makingobservations: Turkish soldiers, Turkish policemen, Turkish recruits, butall the peasants Serb. The country costume is different from that of thenorth, the perpendicular stripe on the skirt has here given way tohorizontal bands of colour, and some women wear a sort of exaggeratedham frill about the waist. The men's waistcoats were very ornate, andmuch embroidery was upon their coats. 

An English nurse came into the town in the afternoon. She, a Russiangirl, and an English orderly had driven from Plevlie, en route toUzhitze. Half-way along the wheel of their carriage had broken inpieces, so they finished the road on foot. Curiously enough we hadtravelled from England to Malta with this lady, Sister Rawlins, on thesame transport. The Russian girl had been married only the day before toa Montenegrin officer, nephew of the Sirdar Voukotitch, Commander-in-Chief of the North, and she was flying back to Russia tocollect her goods and furniture. 

Next day as we were sketching in the picturesque main street, from thedistance came the sounds of a weird wailing, drawing slowly closer andcloser. 

"Hurra, " thought we--two minds with but a single, etc. , --"afuneral--magnificent. Just the thing to complete the scene. "

A string of donkeys came round the corner, on either flank each animalbore a case marked with a large red cross. Amongst the animals weredonkey-boys, and it was from their lips came the dismal wailing. Neverhave we seen so ragged and wretched a crew. The boys were evidently the"unfits, " and they looked it, every face showed the wan, pallid shadowof hunger and disease. A few old men in huge fur caps, with rifles ontheir backs, stumbled along, guarding the precious convoy. "Glue pot"led us all to a large empty building, once a Turkish merchant's store, where the cases were to be housed. The bullock carts with the heavierpackages came in in the evening, and we sent the men five litres of plumbrandy to put some warmth into their miserable bodies. This moved themonce more to singing, but we think the songs sounded a little lessdreary. 

The Commandant asked for, and got, half a dozen sheets from us as a sortof superior backsheesh, and promised us horses for the morrow. 

The next morning dawned dismally. Miss Rawlins and her companions wereto go on by post cart, and their conveyance arrived first, only two anda half hours late. It was a sort of tinker's tent on four ricketywheels. There seemed to be barely room for one within the dark interior, but both Miss Rawlins and the little Russian climbed in somehow. Charlie, the orderly, clung on by his eyelids in front, and off theywent. We last saw two faces peering back at us beneath the fringe of thetent. They had no luck. Half-way to Uzhitze the cart upset and they wereall rolled into the ditch, missing a precipice of sixty feet or so bythe merest fraction. 

Our own horses arrived later, we mounted, and with cheers from theassembled authorities, we rode off. 

The rain came down in a steady drizzle; we discovered that thewaterproof cloaks which we had borrowed from Nish were not veryweathertight. We climbed right up into the clouds, but still the rainheld on. From the floating mist jutted great boulders and huge redcliffs. Our guide put up an umbrella and rode along crouching beneathit. At 1400 metres we reached an inn, where we lunched. A Montenegrincommissioner insisted on paying our bill, and said that we would do thesame for him when he came to England. Every one in Serbia or Montenegrois interested in ages. They were astounded at ours. They said that Jowould have been seventeen if she were Serbian; and one rose, shook Janwarmly by the hand and said he must have "navigated" the marriage well. 

We rode over the frontier, but we were not yet in the real Montenegro. This is not the black mountain where the last dregs of old Serbianaristocracy defied the Turk, this is still the Sanjak, three years agoTurkish, and with pleasant pasturages spreading on either hand. 

At last we came up over Plevlie. To one corner we could see the towncreeping in a crescent about the foot of a grey hill, far away on theother side was a little monastery, forlorn and white, like a shiveringsaint, and between a great valley with four purplish humps in the midstof the corn and maize fields, like great whales bursting through apatchwork quilt. 

Our horses were thoroughly cheered up, and we passed through the longstreets of the town at a lively trot, a thing Jo was taught as a childto consider bad form. 

A semi-transparent little man in a black hat stood on the hotel stepsbeckoning to us. But we had no use for hotel touts, and waved our stickssaying, "Hospital. " He seemed curiously disappointed. 

The hospital, many long low buildings, lay buried in a park of trees. The staff lived in a tiny house near by, where we were welcomed by thecook, Mrs. Roworth. She explained that as the house was hardly capableof holding its ten or twelve occupants, a room had been taken for us atthe inn, but that we were to meal with them. 

"Not that you will like the food, " she said, "for it's all tinned, and Ihave only twenty-five shillings a week to buy milk, bread, and freshmeat. "

We wondered why, in such a fertile country, a party of hard-workingpeople should be condemned to eat tinned mackerel and vegetables broughtall the way from England?

However, the dinner was excellent--all "disguised, " she said, for shehad during the few weeks she had been there concentrated on the art ofdisguising bully beef and worse problems, and had sternly put Dr. Clemowon omelets and beefsteaks, as his digestion had caved in under sixmonths' unadulterated tinned food. 

We met old friends, fellow travellers on the way out. In those days theywere a wistful little party, wondering how they were going to reachMontenegro, the Adriatic being impossible. At last one of the passes washurriedly improved for them by a thousand prisoners, and they rodethrough in the snow. Since then typhus had raged, two of their numberhad been very ill, and one had died. Their energy had been tremendous, and everywhere in the country they were spoken of as the wonderfulEnglish hospital, and even from Chainitza, where there was a Russianhospital, soldiers walked a long day's march in order to be treated bythe English. 

Dr. Roger's rival was there, the perpetrator of ninety hernia operationsa week--or was it more?

All this on tinned food!

Our hotel room proved large and comfortable with a talkative willingTurk in attendance. We slept immensely and were wakened by yet anotherhorrible cock crowing. All Balkan cocks seem to have bronchitis. 

Plevlie is a red-tiled nucleus with a fringe of wood-roofed Serb housesplanted round it. There are ten mosques, while the only Greek churchstands forlorn on the other side of the great hollow two miles away. 

The town is not really Montenegrin. It has the cosmopolitan character ofall the Sanjak, Turks, Austro-Turks and Serbs--a mixture like that atMarseilles or Port Said. 

The shops are Turkish, though their turbaned owners, sittingcross-legged on the floor-counters, can speak only Serb--a thing whichpuzzled us at the time. 

We saw veiled women and semi-veiled children everywhere, thicklylatticed windows with curious eyes peeping through, and yards with highwooden palings above to prevent the possible young men on the housesopposite from catching a glimpse of the fair ladies in the gardens. 

Plenty of long-legged Montenegrin officers--with flat caps bearing theKing's initials, and five rings representing the dynasties of the rulinghouse--filled the streets, and also the inevitable ragged soldiers withgorgeous bags on their backs. 

Some of the women, too, were wearing these caps, but theirs were yetsmaller and tipped over their noses, like the pork pie hat of ourgrandmothers. One closely veiled woman showed the silhouette sticking upthrough her veil just like a blacking tin. 

The Mahommedan is much more fanatic in these parts than his morecivilized brother of Salonika or Constantinople. Women of the tworeligions do not visit. The hatred is partially political, and Jo beganto realize that her dream of visiting a harem would not be easy toachieve. We met three women walking down a lonely street. Although theirfaces were covered with several thicknesses of black chiffon, theymodestly placed them against the wall and stood there, three shapelessbundles, until we were out of sight. 

Jan's feelings were very much hurt, but he soon got used to beingtreated like a dangerous dragon. 

When we reached our hotel again we found the élite of the town waitingin the bar-room for us. There was a huge jolly Greek priest, all big hatand velvet, the prefect, the schoolmaster, a linguist, and the littleblack-hatted man whom we had mistaken for a hotel tout. 

The priest was president of the Montenegrin Red Cross, the prefect was aformer Prime Minister and a Voukotitch. All important men who are notPetroviches are Voukotitches; the first being members of the king's andthe second of the queen's family. 

The little black-hatted man was secretary of the Red Cross, and wasformally attached to us while there as cicerone. He explained to us thatthey had all been in the hotel expecting us the night before, with abeautiful dinner which had been prepared in our honour. 

We apologized and inwardly noted the grateful temperament of theMontenegrin. We were solemnly treated to coffee and brandy, and thejolly priest emptied his cigarette box into Jo's lap. When the firstpolite ceremoniousness had worn off we asked delicately about the front. 

"Did we wish to see the front?"

Certainly, said the prefect, we should have the first horses that shouldcome back to the town, and the little transparent shadow man shouldaccompany us. And our letter to the Sirdar Voukotitch, commander inchief of the north?--He should be told about it on his return thatevening from the front. 

At sunset the muezzin sounded, cracked voices cried unmelodiously fromall the minaret tops. Immediately, as if it were their signal, all thecrows arose from the town, hovered around in batches for a moment, chattering, and flew away up the hill to roost in the trees round thehospital till sunrise. 

Salonika rings with children's cries, Dawson city with the howlings ofdogs, but the towns of the Sanjak have no better music than the croakingof carrion crows. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V

THE MONTENEGRIN FRONT ON THE DRINA

When Jan awoke it was dark, and he was with difficulty rousing Jo whensuddenly a voice howled through the keyhole that the horses werewaiting. Jan grabbed his watch--5 a. M. ; but the horses had been orderedfor six. Hastily chewing dry biscuit, Jan jumped into his clothes andran down. There was a small squat youth with a flabby Mongolian facehovering between the yard door and the inn, and Jan following himdiscovered three horses saddled and waiting. He hastily ordered whitecoffee to be prepared, and ran up again to hurry Jo and to pack. Herushed down again to pay the bill, but found that the Montenegrin RedCross had charged itself with everything, very generously, so he ran uponce more to nag at Jo. The secretary, whom we called "the shadow, " hadnot appeared, so we inquired from the squint-eyed youth, received many"Bogamis" as answer, but nothing definite; so we decided, as it was nowpast six, that he had changed his mind and had sent this chinee-lookingfellow, whom we named "Bogami, " in his place. 

Jan's horse was like an early "John" drawing of a slender but antiquatedsiren, all beautiful curves. Jo's would in England long ago have takenthe boat to Antwerp; her saddle stood up in a huge hump behind and had asteeple in front, and was covered by what looked like an old bearskinhearthrug in a temper, one stirrup like a fire shovel was yards toolong, the other far too short, and were set well at the back. 

"What queer horses!" we remarked. 

"Bogami, " said Bogami; "when there are no horses these are good horses, Bogami. "

"Where is the secretary?"

"Bogami nesnam" (don't know). 

From Uzhitze we had good horses, from Prepolji moderate, now these;imagination staggered at what we should descend to if we did a fourthlap to Cettinje, for instance, but we climbed up. Jo with her queerlyplaced stirrups perched forward something like a racing cyclist. Bogami's horse was innocent of garniture, save for a piece of chainbound about its lower jaw, but he slung his great coat over the saw edgeof its backbone and leapt on. He must have had a coccyx of cast iron. Wehad to kick the animals into a walk--there were fifty kilometres to go. 

After a while we began to wonder if it would not be quicker to get offand foot it, but we did catch up and eventually pass a Red Cross Turk. We saw a soldier striding ahead. By kicks and shouts we raised a sprintalong the level road; we drew even with him, and then began a race; onthe uphills we beat him, on the downhills he caught up and passed infront. He was a taciturn fellow, and save that he was going to Fochar welearnt nothing about him. On a long uphill we gained a hundred yards, and by supreme efforts held our gains. He eventually disappeared fromview, and we were rejoicing at our speed when we realized that thetelegraph wires were no longer with us--one can always find the nearestway by following the telegraph, for governments do not waste wire. Janlooked for them and found them streaming away to the left, and amongthem, well up on the horizon, our enemy the soldier. 

"Look, " we cried to Bogami, "isn't that the shortest way? The wires gothere. "

"Bogami, " he replied; "wires can, horses can't, bogami. "

There is a fine military road to Chainitza, made by the Austrians, butit remains a white necklace on the hills, almost an ornament to thelandscape. No one seemed to use it, while our old Turkish road whichsnaked and twisted up and down was pitted with the hoofs of countlesshorses. It is a stony path, and our animals were shod with flat platesinstead of horseshoes; they slipped and slithered, and we wondered if inyouth they had ever had lessons in skating. 

There was a heavy mist, but it began to break up, and through peepholesone caught fleeting glimpses of distant patterning of field and forest, and hints of great hills. The sun showed like a great pale moon on thehorizon. There were other travellers on the old Turkish trail, horsemen, Bosnians in great dark claret-coloured turbans, or Montenegrins in theirflat khaki caps, peasants in dirty white cotton pyjamas, thumping beforethem animals with pack-swollen sides, soldiers only recognizable fromthe peasants by the rifle on their backs, and Turks; most were jollyfellows, and hailed us cheerfully. 

From a house by the roadside burst a sheep, followed by five men. Theychased the animal down the road whistling to it. We had never heard thatwhistling was effectual with sheep, and certainly it did not succeedvery well in this instance. 

Somewhere beyond this house Jan's inside began to cry for food, twobiscuits and a cup of _café au lait_ being little upon which to found along day's riding. He tentatively tried a "compressed luncheon. " Itsaction was satisfactory, but whether it resulted from real nourishmentcontained in the black-looking glue, or whether it came from a stickingtogether of the coating of the stomach, we have not yet decided. Jopreferred rather to endure the hunger. 

Bogami had quite a charm; for instance, he appreciated our troubles withthe beasts we were riding. Jo's horse stumbled a good deal on thedownhills; her saddle was very uncomfortable and so narrow that shecould never change her position. We came into most magnificent scenery, the beauty of which made a deep impression even upon our empty selves. There were deep green valleys, rising to peaks and hills which fadedaway ridge behind ridge of blue into the distant Serbian mountains, great pine woods of delicate drooping trees which came down and foldedin on every side, and though it was almost September there werestrawberries still ripe at the edge of the road, little red lusciousblobs amidst the green. 

Metalka at one o'clock, and we were on the real Montenegrin frontier. There are two Metalkas, a Montenegrin and an Austrian, and they aredivided one from the other by a strip of land some ten yards acrosswhich rips the village in two like the track of a little cyclone. Bogamidirected us to a shanty labelled "Hotel of Europe. " A large woman wasblocking the door; we demanded food, she took no notice. Hunger wasclamouring within us. We demanded a second time. She waved her handmajestically to her rival in Austria, at whose tables Montenegrinofficers were sitting with coffee. 

An officer greeted us. 

"We had expected you yesterday, " he said. 

We waved to the horses. 

"No horses. "

"That is a pity, " he murmured. "You see, there was something to eatyesterday!"

In spite of his pessimism we got eggs and wine. Bogami had a largecrowd, to whom he lectured, and we sent him out some eggs. 

After lunch we pushed on, in conquered territory. To Chainitza they saidwas one hour and a half, it proved nearer three. 

We joined some peasants, and they told us that they were going to thegreat festival. The old mother halted at a sort of sheep pen by theroadside; when she rejoined us she was wiping her eyes. 

"That was my brother, " she explained; "he was killed in the war;" for itis the custom to erect memorial stones by the roadside. Many of theseare very quaint, sometimes painted with a soldier, or else with therifle, sword, pistols and medals of the deceased. 

Chainitza lies in a backwater, where the deep valley makes a suddenbend. When we came to it the sun was in our eyes, and halfway betweenthe crest and the river the town seemed to float in a bluish mist; twowhite mosques stood out against the trees, and the roof of one was notone dome, but many like an inverted egg frier, or almost as though itwas boiling over. 

We were stopped at the entry by a sentry. 

"Where are you going?"

"To the Russian Hospital. "

He took us in charge and led us, in spite of protestations, to thehotel. A man in a shabby frock-coat received us, and Jo, mistaking himfor the innkeeper, clamoured once more for the Russians. The shabby manexplained that he was the Prefect, and that this was a State reception. We began to be awed by our own dignity. We explained to him that theShadow had changed his mind and had sent Bogami instead. 

Bogami brought our knapsacks to our room, where he was immobilized bythe sight of himself in the looking-glass of the wardrobe; probably hehad never seen such a thing before, and he goggled at it. He at lastbacked slowly from the room. 

We rested a while, then descended to find--the Shadow. 

He was rather hurt with us, and wanted to know why the ---- we had goneoff without him. We explained, compared watches, and found that Jan'swas an hour too fast. The poor Shadow had been chasing us on a borrowedhorse, with our permissions to travel in his pocket, and wildly hopingthat he would catch us up before we were arrested as spies. 

We had tea with the Russians in a little arbour on the roadside, andchewed sweets which had just arrived from Petrograd, having been threemonths on the journey, but none the worse for that. Many officers came, amongst them the husband of the little Russian girl we had met atPrepolji. They all seemed to be Voukotitches, and at last the Sirdarhimself honoured us. He is a huge man, and yet seemed to take up moreroom than his size warrants. He has a flat, almost plate-like face, withpallid blue eyes which seemed to focus some way beyond the object of hisregard. Were his moustache larger he would be rather like LordKitchener, and he was very pleased at the obvious compliment. He poses alittle, moves seldom but suddenly, and shoots his remarks as thoughwords of command. He was very kind to us, and was immensely astonishedat Jo's Serbian, holding up his hands and saying "Kako" at every one ofher speeches. He suggested that poor Bogami should be beaten, but webegged him off. Captain Voukotitch, the husband of a day, was appointedto be our guide for the morrow--because Jo spoke Serbian. 

After tea we went up to the bubbly mosque, which was in reality theGreek church. We entered a large gate; on the one side of a yard was thechurch, and on the other a big two-storied rest-house, where one couldlodge while paying devotions or doing pilgrimages. Its long balconieswere filled with country folk all come for the festival, and who werefeasting and laughing as though the war did not exist. The courtyard wasfilled with men and women in Bosnian costumes, white and dark redembroideries. Through the open door of the church one could see thesilhouettes of the peasants bowing before the Ikons and relics. It wasalmost dark, and one man began to play a little haunting melody upon awooden pipe, but though they linked arms and shuffled their feet, theyoung men did not dance. 

At supper the Shadow revealed a quaint sense of humour, and so to bed. 

The next morning was lovely, and we started at seven with the youngestVoukotitch and the others. Some officers had lent us their horses, andVoukotitch had proudly produced his English saddle for Jo. On the roadthe spirit of mischief entered him. 

"You can ride all right, " he said; "wouldn't you like to go to thenearest machine-gun to the Austrian lines?"

"Rather, " said Jo. 

"You'll have to do some stiff riding, though. I know the major, and heis bored to death. He'll let us. "

"But what about the bullets?" said the Shadow. 

In time the major was produced, emerging from a cottage by the roadside, other officers with him, and we had a merry coffee party in an arbour. One told Jo that he was a lawyer. The few Montenegrins who had themisfortune to be educated were not allowed to serve at the front, but hehad been lucky enough through influence to be allowed to take acommission. He had not seen much serious fighting, however, as no movehad been made for several months. 

Then we tackled the hills. "Come along, " said the major, cheerfully; andhis horse's nose went down and its tail went up, and off it sliddownhill. We had seen the Italian officers do such things on thecinematograph, but little thought that we should be in the sameposition. We supposed it would be all right. Jo's horse became nearlyvertical, and she sat back against its tail. Jan followed. Sometimes asheet of rock was across the path--then we slid; sometimes the sandbecame very soft--we slid again. Then a muddy bit, and the horsesquelched down on his hind quarters. 

Here we met a Serbian captain who was in charge of the battery. He wasvery lonely, and delighted to have a chance to talk, and he talked hardall day, showed us a neat reservoir his men had built, explained to usthat beautiful uniforms were coming from Russia soon for the weirdlygarbed beings who were guarding the hills, and asked us to lunch behindthe trenches under a canopy of boughs. 

While lunch was being prepared he took us round his artillery, and intohis observation station on the top of a crooked tree. Below us we couldsee the river Dreina--on the other side of which was Gorazhda, held bythe Austrians--and the fortified hills behind. 

It seemed impossible that this wide peaceful scene was menacing with athreat of death, yet at intervals one could hear a faint "pop! pop!" asthough far-away giants were holding feast and opening great champagnebottles. Away in the hills could be seen an encampment of white tents, which caused a mild excitement, for they had not been there the daybefore, and we were told that they were quite out of range. 

During lunch the youngest Voukotitch tempted the major--who was insplendid mood--suggesting that it was rather tame to go home afterhaving come within mere bowing distance of the Austrians, and that a fewstray bullets would not incommode us. 

The major saw reason fairly quickly, so we bestrode our horses again andcontinued our switchback course. At an open space where the Austrianscould shoot at us if they wished we had to plunge down the hill quickly, keeping a distance of one hundred yards from each other. 

The little Shadow prudently got off his horse and used its body as ashield. 

We banged at the door of a cottage, and a young lieutenant came out;somebody said he was nineteen and a hero. 

[Illustration: SERB AND MONTENEGRIN OFFICERS ON THE DRINA. ]

[Illustration: A CONCEALED GUN EMPLACEMENT ON THE DRINA. ]

Here we left our horses and began to scramble through brambles along anarrow path, climbing up the back of a little hill on the crest of whichwere the machine guns. Just before we got to the top we plunged into atunnel which bored through the hill; at the end was the gun. The heroscrambled in, wriggled the gun about and explained. He invited Jo toshoot. She squashed past him; there was a knob at the back of the gunon which she pressed her thumbs, and she immediately wanted another pairwith which to stop her ears. The gun jammed suddenly. The hero pulledthe belt about, and Jo set it going once more. 

The Austrian machine guns answered back and kept this up, so Jo pressedthe knob again and yet again. Then we got into the trenches above. Whenever Jo popped her head over the trenches for a good look there werefaint reports from the mountain opposite. One or two bullets whizzedover our heads, and we realized that they were aiming at Jo's big whitehat. 

Jan climbed down the hill and took snap-shots of Gorazhda; the enemy gota couple of pretty near shots at him. 

When the Montenegrins thought this sport was becoming monotonous theyremembered the business of the day. A big house in Gorazhda was said tobe full of Hungarian officers, and they wanted to get the range of thiswith one of the big guns. This decision had been made a day or twobefore with much deliberation. This they thought the State could afford. The precious shell was brought out, and every one fondled it. 

Men were called out and huge preparations were made for sighting andtaking aim. We scuttled round with field glasses, and finally stood ontiptoe behind branches on a mound by the side of the gun. There weremany soldiers fussing in the dug-out, and at last they pulled thestring. 

"Goodness! Now we've done it, " Jo thought, as the mountains sent backthe fearful report in decreasing echoes. We seemed to wait an eternity, and then "something white" happened far beyond the village. 

The officers looked at each other with long faces. "A bad miss--theexpense. "

We felt the resources of the Montenegrin Empire were tottering. Awful!Could they afford another?

Finally, with great courage, they decided that it was better to spendtwo shells on getting a decent aim than to lose one for nothing. Theterrific bang went off again, and this time the "something white"happened right on the roof of the house. The Hungarian officers all ranout, and the machine guns below jabbered at them. Nobody was killed asfar as we know, but every one was content and delighted. 

Sunset was approaching, and we rode away quickly, only stopping once todrag a reluctant old Turk from the mountain side and make him sing tothe accompaniment of a one-stringed goosla. He hated to do it as allhis best songs were about triumphant Mahommedans crushing Serbs, and ofcourse he couldn't sing those. 

He sat grumpily cross-legged on the ground, encircled by our horses, droning a song of two notes, touching the string quickly with the flatlower part of his fingers. 

We left him very suddenly because the darkness comes quickly in thosehills, so we made for the high-road as hard as we could. 

We rode fast to the Colonel's cottage, sat down to the dinner table, which was decked with pale blue napkins, and a fine-looking oldVoukotitch, an ex-M. P. In national costume, acted as butler. In spite ofhis seventy odd years he had joined the army as a common soldier. Herefused all invitations to sit with us, for he knew his place. The younghusband was his nephew, and they kissed fondly on leave-taking. 

We rode back in the moonlight. At one spot on the road was a sawmill, and the huge white pine logs lying all about looked like the fallencolumns of some ruined Athenian temple. We tried to enjoy the moment, and to brush aside the awful thought that we must remount Rosinante andCo. Next day. 

The Shadow was terribly puffed up about his feat. The following morningas we were sketching in the town, an officer approached respectfully. 

"His excellency the Sirdar invites you to supper, " he said. 

We considered a moment, for we had intended to return to Plevlie. TheShadow broke in. 

"It is inconvenient to come to supper, " he said to our horror. "Tell hisexcellency that the gentleman and lady will come to lunch if he wishesit. "

The Sirdar meekly sent answer that lunch would suit him very well, andwe could drive back with him to Plevlie. "Would we come to his house at12. 30?"

The Prefect told us that we ought to go to the lunch at twelve, becausethe Sirdar's clock was always half an hour fast. We arrived, but theSirdar evidently had been considering us, he did not appear for the halfan hour, so we sat with his staff sipping rakia by the roadside. 

The lunch was excellent, but the Sirdar's carriage, like every othercarriage in Montenegro, was a weird, ancient, rusty arabesquish affair, tied together with wire. We had two resplendent staff officers, armed tothe teeth, who galloped ahead, we had two superior non-coms. , also armedto the dentals, galloping behind, while on the box sat a man with gun, pistols, sword, dagger and a bottle of wine and water which we passedround whenever the Sirdar became hoarse. The coachman was as old and asshabby as his carriage, and every five miles or so was forced to descendand tie up yet another mishap with wire--ordinary folks' carriages areonly repaired with string. 

The Sirdar occupied almost the whole of the back seat, and Jo wassqueezed into the crack which was left. Jan was perched on a sort ofledge, facing them. The carriage was narrow, six legs were two too manyfor the space. Jan's were the superfluous ones. He tried this pose, hetried that, but in spite of his contortions he endured much of the sevenhours' journey in acute discomfort and the latter part in torture. 

In spite of his throat the Sirdar did nearly all the talking. Thecountry we were passing through were scenes of his battles: with one armhe threw a company over this hill, with a hand, nearly hitting Jan inthe eye, he marched an army corps along that valley; he explained how hehad been forced to give up the Ministry of War because there was noother efficient commander for the north. 

A blue ridge of pine trees appeared on our right hand. 

"You see those hills, " said the Sirdar: "I'll tell you the story of areply of mine, a funny reply. I ordered a general last winter to marchacross those hills. He said that the troops would starve. I looked himin the eye. Then you will eat wolves, I shouted. He went. "

If we passed peasants he stopped them. He seemed to have anextraordinary memory for names and faces. 

"Never forget a face, " he said, "never forget its name. That is thesecret of popularity. "

He was very anxious that we should go to Cettinje and to Scutari. Hekindly promised to see about it, to arrange for our horses and to haveour passage telegraphed before us. At Podgoritza he said a governmentmotor-car should wait for us. He advised us to make a detour from thestraight road and to see the famous black lake of Jabliak and theDormitor mountains. We thanked him gratefully. He waved our thanksaside. 

"And I will write to my friend the Minister of War. He will arrange thatyou go to Scutari. " He then explained all the reasons why Montenegroshould hold Scutari when the war was over. 

"It was ours, " he said; "we only gave it up to Venice so that she shouldprotect us from the Turk. If we do not hold Scutari, Montenegro cannever become a state, so if we cannot keep her we might as well give upCettinje. After all we are but taking back what was once ours. "

He was daily expecting the uniforms from Russia, and asked every soldieron the road for news. At last one said that he had seen them. 

"The stuff is rather thin, your excellency, but the boots are splendid. "

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI

NORTHERN MONTENEGRO

We were accosted by a clean-limbed, joyous youth, who bore on his capthe outstretched winged badge of the police. He said--

"Mister Sirdar, he tell me take you alon' o' Nickshitch. "

Sure enough the next morning there he was, with three horses, which ifnot the identical animals of our Chainitza trip were sisters or brothersto them. It was a wretched day, gusty, and the rain sweeping round thecorners of the old streets. Early as was the hour, the wretchedprisoners were peering through the lattice windows of their prison, which evidently once had been the harem of some wealthy Turk; wherebeauties had once lain on voluptuous couches, wretched criminals nowcrouched half-starved, racked with disease, and as we passed held outskinny arms. All Montenegrin saddles are bound on with string, eventhose of the highest in the land; indeed, one cannot imagine how thepeople did before string was invented, and ours began to slip before wewere well clear of the town. Necessary adjustments were made, and ononce more. 

Our guide was well armed--he carried two murderous-looking pistols, anda long rifle slung over his back. He was in high spirits and showed usthat the proper way to ride Montenegrin horses was to drop the reins onto the animal's neck, kick it in the stomach with both feet, elevatingyour arms and uttering the most unearthly yells. Thus terrified, theunfortunate wreck would canter a few yards, and our cicerone would turnin his saddle and grin back at us, who were humanely contented with thesolemn jog-trot of our aged steeds along the well-worn horse-track--forthere was no road. 

We crawled along, wretched in the downpour, the scenery completelyhidden by the clouds; but towards midday, as we climbed ever higher andhigher, we plunged into pine forests where the rain began to thin tomist, veiling the trees with layers of drifting fog. Out of the forestswe came--the rain having ceased--into a strange-looking landscape, whosejapanesiness is equalled possibly only by Japan itself. There were thequeer rounded hills, the gnarled and twisted little pines and dimfir-clad slopes cutting the sky with sharp grey silhouettes. 

Here we stopped to eat. We opened a tin of meat and made roughsandwiches with the coarse brown or black bread which is the staple foodof Serbian nations. When we were satisfied there was meat left in thetin. Two wretched, ragged children came on the road singing somehalf-Eastern chant, and we hailed them. They refused the food withdignity, and marched on offended. 

We came to the Grand Canyon of Colorado--we beg its pardon--ofMontenegro, The Tara. Great cliffs towered high on either side, greatgrey, rugged cliffs topped with pine and scrub oak. Down, down, down tothe river, an hour, and we crossed the bridge out of Novi Bazar intoMontenegro--thirty years free from the Turk. We halted at a littlecoffee stall made of boughs. Jan wanted to get a photo, but the womenwere so shy that Jo had to push them out into the open. 

On the way up the other cliff our guide became communicative. He hadbeen in America, in the mining camps, and spoke fair American. 

"In ole days, dese was de borders, " he said; "'ere de Serb, 'n dere deTurk. Natchurally dey 'ate each oder. Dey waz two fellers 'ad fair coldfeet, one 'ere, one over dere, Turk 'n our chapy. Every day dey comedown to de ribber 'n dey plug't de odder chap wid dere ole pistols whatfilled at de nose. But dey neber hit nuttin. One day de Serb 'e got madand avade in de ribber, but 'e did'n 'it de Turk. Nex' day dey hot'avade in 'arf way across. Dey miss again. De tird day dey avades in riteter de middle, 'n each shoots up de odder dead. Yessir, 'n dere bodiesfloat down ter 'ere. "

He looked up and pointed. 

"Dey was a gooman up dere, " he said. 

"A gooman?"

"Yes, a man wat 'ad a gooman all to 'isself. "

"!!!!"

"Dey was an ole town all made o' stones, " our guide explained, "wheredis man made 'is gooman. You know wat a gooman is?--kill all de fellerswhat pass 'n do wat you likes. "

We understood suddenly that "Government" was indicated. 

"Dat's wat I say, " he answered, "gooman--'e was killed by a Montenegrinchap wat throwed 'im orf de cliffs, 'n a Turk gets all 'is land. Dat's'ow dey was done dose days. Dere ain't much 'o de ole town lef now. "

"We 'ad to chase de Turk outer 'ere, " he went on; "lots 'o fighting, butwe 'ad luck. You see, dey 'ad two lines, 'an we got de first line before'e was ready, 'n wiped 'im out, so de secon' line did'n know if it was'im retreatin' or us advancin', and we was into 'em before dey 'ad madeup dere minds. Yessir. "

The ascent was terribly laborious. Our animals were sweating, thoughthey were carrying nothing but the knapsacks. 

"Ye see dat flat stone?" said the guide. "Dat's were de gooman feller'ide 'is gold. Dey was tree Italians chaps 'ere 'n dey turn ober datstone ter roll it downill. 'N underneat was all dat feller's gold. Datmadum larf, I tell yer. "

We climbed higher and yet higher; we thought we would never reach thecrest. The sweat poured from us, and we were drenched. 

On the top there were but few stones of the old castle, and we rode overthe ruins. We passed into a queer pallid country, pale grey houses, paleyellow or pale green fields, grey sky and stones, a violently rollingplain where our guide lost his way, and we became increasingly aware ofthe discomfort of our saddles, and prayed for the journey to end. 

We refound the route, and asked a peasant, "How far to Jabliak?"

"Bogami, quarter of an hour. "

We cheered. 

At the end of twenty minutes we asked once more. 

"Bogami, quarter of an hour. "

At the end of twenty minutes more we asked again, our spirits werefalling. 

"Bogami, quarter of an hour. "

"* * *!"

We then asked a peasant and his wife. The woman considered for a moment. 

"About an hour, " she said. 

Her husband turned and swore at her. 

"Bogami, don't believe her, gentlemen, " he cried, "it's only a quarterof an hour. "

We left them quarrelling. 

It grew dark, and we grew miserable. Jabliak seemed like a dream, and welike poor wandering Jews, cursed ever to roam on detestable saddles inthis queer pallid country. 

At last a peasant said it was five minutes off, and then it really was aquarter of an hour distant. 

We came down from the hills to find the whole aristocracy--onecaptain--not to say all their populace, out on the green to do ushonour. They had been informed by telegraph of our august decision tosleep in their wooden village. When we got off our horses our knees wereso cramped that we could scarcely stand, and we hobbled after thecaptain into a bitterly cold room without furniture. VariousMontenegrins came and looked at us, and an old veterinary surgeon, also_en route_, but in the opposite direction, conversed in bad German. Theold vet. Was a Roumanian, and the only animal doctor in all Montenegro. 

To their great surprise we demanded something to eat. 

"Supper is at nine, " they said severely. 

"But we have had nothing since ten this morning, " we protested. 

"But supper will be ready at nine, " they said again. 

After a lot of trouble we got some scrambled eggs, but nothing wouldpersuade our guide, whose name, by the way, was "Mike, " to haveanything. It almost seemed improper to eat at the wrong hours, even ifone was hungry. 

After supper we sat growing colder and colder. At last, in desperation, we asked if there were no place in the village which had a fire. 

"Oh yes, there is a fire in the other café, " and thither we wereconducted. 

We were in a jolly wooden room, with a blazing stove and a most welcomefugginess. The hostess brought us rakia, coffee and walnuts, and did herutmost to make us comfortable. Montenegrins crowded in, and discussedthe probable end of the war. There was little enthusiasm shown, most ofthe talk was of the hardships, and a little grumbling that the farmswere going to pieces because of the lack of men. 

Before leaving Plevlie, Dr. Clemow had presented Jan with a box of RedCross cigars, and he handed one to the captain. The official received itgratefully. 

"Ah!" he said. "Cigars, eh! One does not often see those nowadays. "

The cigar was a Trichinopoli. Jan said nothing, but watched. The captainlit the cigar manfully, and for some minutes puffed, looking theapotheosis of aristocracy. Presently his puffing ceased, he lookedthoughtful, and then saying that he had forgotten an important paperwhich he had not signed, he fled. We found the cigars most usefulafterwards, as a sort of spiritual disinfector, infallible againstbores. 

Into the cracks of the ceiling were stuck white and yellow flowers, thyme and other plants, till the roof looked like an invertedflower-bed. We had noticed this custom before, and asked Mike if it hadany significance. 

"Oh yes, " he answered, "all dose tings, dey stuck up dere 'gainst defleas 'n bugs. "

This was translated into Serbian, and the woman boxed his ears. 

We supped on meat--three courses--meat, meat, meat, and so tough thatour teeth bounced off, and we were compelled to bolt the morsels whole. One course tired us out, weary as we already were with our journey, butMike, making up for his former abstinence, wolfed all his own share andwhat remained over from ours. 

The night was so cold that we went to bed in our clothes, and even thencould not sleep for hours. 

We woke with difficulty to a glorious day, and found that what we hadthought yesterday to be a plain was in truth a great plateau surroundedby towering grey mountains on which were gulfs and gullies filled witheternal snow. Jabliak is a queer village, fifty or sixty weatheredwooden houses--with the high-peaked roof of Northern Serbia--flung downinto this wilderness, where the grass and crops fight for existence withthe pushing stones, and where the summer is so short that the captain'splum tree--the only one--will not ripen save in exceptional years. Nevera wheel comes to Jabliak, and so it is a village without streets. Everything which passes here is horse-or woman-borne, and for hay theyuse long narrow sledges which slide over the stones and slippery grassas though it were snow. 

"Urrgh, " said a man, "you should see this in winter. Snow ten and twelvefeet deep, and only just the roofs and the tops of the telegraph-polesemerging. "

The village escorted us to see the famous Black Lake below the peaks ofDormitor. 

The lake is beautiful enough, but too big for mystery, too small to beimpressive. One had imagined it twinkling like the wicked pupil of awitch's eye, with cornea of white stones and eye-lashes of pine trees, and we desecrated even its stillness by shooting at wild duck with arifle. 

Jan had been describing to the villagers how well Jo rode; they nowthink he is a liar. Her horse took an unexpected jump at a smallobstacle; the huge hump at the back of the saddle rose suddenly, threwher forward, and before she had realized anything, she was hangingalmost upside down about the horse's neck, helpless because of theenormous steeple in front. This horse, as though quite used to similaroccurrences, stood quietly contemplative, till Mike had restored her toa perpendicular. 

Then on again. At times the tracks grew very muddy, and the horsesside-slipped a good deal. At the top of a pass we halted to get coffeefrom a leafy hut. Before us were the mountains of Voynik, a blue ridgewith shadowy, strange crevasses and cliffs; behind us Dormitor was stillvisible, a faint stain on the sky, as though that great canopy had beendragging edges in the dew. 

Four women clambered up towards us. When they had reached the top theyflung down their enormous knapsacks and sat down. They were a cheery, pretty set, and we asked them where they were going. 

"To the front, " they said. 

"What for?"

"Those are for our husbands and brothers, " answered they, patting thehuge coloured knapsacks. 

"How far have you to walk?" we asked. 

"Four more days. "

"And how far have you walked?"

"Four days. "

No complaining, no repining, just a statement of fact, these women werecheerfully tramping eight days with bundles weighing from 45 to 50pounds upon their backs, to take a few luxuries, or necessities, totheir fighting kin. 

We bade them a jolly farewell, wished them luck, and started downhill. 

The track became so steep that we had to descend from our horses andwalk, and so we came to Shavnik. 

Shavnik is not of wood; it is stone, and as we came into its littlesquare--with the white river-bed on one side--we realized that nowelcome attended us. To our indignant dismay the inn was full, and notelegram from the "State" had arrived. 

[Illustration: PEASANT WOMEN OF THE MOUNTAINS. ]

[Illustration: A VILLAGE OF NORTH MONTENEGRO. ]

We learned that in Montenegro are two kinds of travellers--royaltiesand nobodies. Royalties are done for, nobodies do the best they can. Wefound a not overclean room over a shop--there was nothing better--we hadalready experienced worse: so we ordered supper, and went off to thetelegraph station, to make sure that we arrived as "Royalty" at the nextstop. 

A man suddenly burst into the office, crying, "Sirdar! Sirdar!"

Jo and Jan made their way through the darkness to the inn, squeezedbetween sweating horses to the door. We were admitted. 

The Sirdar received us kindly, but was dreadfully tired, and lookedyears older than he had two days before. He had ridden some 150kilometres in sixteen hours, had left Chainitza at two o'clock in themorning, and had been in the saddle ever since. He is a famous horseman, but is no longer young. Almost all his escort had succumbed to thespeed, and he was full of the story of his orderly's horse which haddone 300 kilometres in four days, and was the only animal which had comethrough with him, he having changed mounts at Plevlie. We left him andwent straight to bed. 

Just as we were comfortably dozing off, a man burst into the room anddemanded "Mike, " and said something about a horse. Jan dressed hurriedlyand clattered downstairs. It was pitch dark. He ran to the stable, felthis way in, and struck a match. There were two horses, one was lying onits side, evidently foundered and dying but Jan felt that they would nothave disturbed him for that. By matchlight again he found that his ownhorses had been turned out by the Sirdar's orderly, and that one wasmissing. Mike was not to be found, but the missing horse was discoveredby a small boy in the dry river-bed apparently in search of water. Janretired to his bedroom to find that in his absence two more strangershad burst in, to Jo's indignation. He pushed them out and locked thedoor. 

When we awoke the Sirdar had already retaken his whirlwindcourse--evidently grave news called him to Cettinje--leaving theorderly's gallant horse dead behind him. 

"He kills many horses, " said a peasant, shaking his head; "he ridesfast--always. "

We crossed the dry bed of the river and prepared for the hill in frontof us. Suddenly Mike's horse plunged into a bog. The poor beast sprawledin the treacherous green up to its stomach, and, thinking its last hourhad come, groaned loudly. Mike threw himself from the saddle, and withgreat effort at last extracted his horse, which emerged trembling anddripping with slime. Mike grinned ruefully. 

"I orter remembered, " he admitted. "Sirdar, 'e get in dere one day'imself. "

This day's riding was the worst we had yet experienced. Our horses werefagged, the road abominable, great stones everywhere on the degeneratedTurkish roads. 

The Turkish road is a narrowish path of flat paving-stones laid directlyupon mother earth: but that is the first stage. In the second stage thepaving-stones have begun to turn and lie like slates on a roof; in thethird they have turned completely on edge, like a row of dominoes, andthe horses, stepping delicately between the obstacles, pound the exposedearth to deep trenches of semi-liquid mud. In the fourth stage thestones have entirely disappeared, leaving only the trenches which thehorses have formed, so that the path is like a sheet of violentlycorrugated iron. Most of the tracks are now between the third and fourthstages of degeneration. One never knows how far the horse will plungehis legs into the trenches, for sometimes they are very shallow, andsometimes the leg is engulfed to the shoulder. 

Jan's horse slipped over one domino, went up to the shoulder into atrench, and off came the rider. Luckily he fell upon a heap of stones, and not into the mud, but he decided for all that to walk for a bit. 

Every now and then one came across traces of the construction of a greatroad--white new stone embankments that started out of nothing, and wentto nowhere, and Mike confessed that he had lost the path once more--

"When I come out of dat confounded mod!"

After a hustle across country we found the road, and wished that we hadnot, for it was a Turkish track in its most belligerent form. 

At last we reached the top and rested awhile. Mike showed us hisrevolver. 

"He good revolver, " he said. "De las' man I shoot he killin' a vooman. Icome. He run away. I tell 'im to stop, but he no stop, so I shoot 'imleg. 'E try to 'it me wi' a gon. "

The man got fourteen years. 

We pushed on again, and on the road picked up an overcoat, which laterwe were able to restore to its owner, a Turk, who was going toNickshitch to buy sugar and salt for Plevlie. 

Bits of the big white road appeared and reappeared with insistence. Weasked who was responsible for its inception. 

"Sirdar, " said Mike; "he good boy. Much work. "

The country was now like brown velvet spread over heaps of giganticpotatoes. 

Our horses grew slower and slower, and the inn which we were seekingseemed ever further and further away. We passed many peasants, and hadevidently entered the land of Venus, for each one was more beautifulthan the neighbour. Since Jabliak we had not seen an ugly man or woman, and the dignity of their carriage was exceeded only by the nobleness oftheir features. Ugly women must be valuable in these parts, and probablymarry early; humans ever prize the rare above the beautiful. 

Mike spoke to many of the girls, asking them their names and of theirhomes. One had his own name--which we forget--and he said that she mustbe his cousin, and that if she would wait where she was he would comeback later and give her a lift. 

At last we came to the wooden inn. 

The better-class inns have dining-room and kitchen separate, thesecond-class both are one, but in each case the fire is made on a heapof earth piled in the centre of the floor; there is no chimney, and thesmoke fills the room with a blue haze, smarting in the eyes; it driftsup to the roof, where hams are hung, and finds its way out through thecracks in the wooden roofing slats. This inn was second-class, and alongone wall was a deep trough, in which were four huge lumps of a whitesubstance which puzzled us. First we thought it was snow, but thatseemed impossible; then we thought it was salt--but why?

It was snow, there being no water fit to drink, so the snow was storedin the winter in huge underground cellars. 

We got coffee and kaimak--a sort of cross between sour milk and creamcheese--and as a great honour the lady of the house, a villainouslydirty-looking woman, brought us two eggs. Jan's was bad, but he put itaside, saying nothing, for it is impossible to explain to these peoplewhat is a "bad" egg--all are alike to them. 

We took an affectionate leave of Mike, for here we degenerated to acarriage, which was waiting us, and he rode off, dragging our tiredhorses behind him. 

As we were getting into the carriage the dirty woman ran up and, beforeJo could ward it off, planted a loving kiss on either cheek. 

We flung our weary limbs upon the rusty cushions. Our driver was acheery fellow, who only answered "quite" to everything we said. We drovethrough miles of country so stony that all the world had turned grey asthough it had remembered how old it was. The road twisted and curledabout the mountains like the flourish of Corporal Trim's stick: belowone could see the road, only half a mile off as the crow flies, but agood five miles by the curves. We were blocked by a great hay-cart. Ourdriver shouted and cursed without effect, so he climbed down from thebox, and, running round the hay, slashed the driver of it with his whip. We expected a free fight, but nothing occurred. When the hay hadmodestly drawn aside, we found "only a girl. " Poor thing! she lookedrueful enough. 

The road was the best we had seen in all the Balkans, white andwell-surfaced like an English country highway, and at last we clatteredinto Nickshitch, the most important town of Northern Montenegro. It waslike a fair-sized Cornish village, with little stone houses andstone-walled gardens filled with sunflowers. 

A charming old major came to the inn to do us the honour we hadtelegraphed for, and together we strolled about the streets. There is apretty Greek church at one end on a formal mound, and behind the townruns a sheer fin of rock topped by an old castle where once had livedanother man who "was a gooman all to hisself;" now it is a monastery, and one of the most picturesque in Montenegro. 

We dined upon beautiful trout fresh from the river, and large greenfigs. Undressing, Jan found a louse in his shirt--that came from thedirty bedroom at Shavnik evidently. He went to bed, but his troubleswere not yet over; there was another foreign presence, a presence whichraised large and itching lumps. He hunted without success for some time, but at last caught and exterminated an enormous bug. After which therewas peace. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII

TO CETTINJE

The rain poured all night. At five o'clock they called us, telling us_not_ to wake up as the motor would come later. At six they knockedagain, saying--

"Get up quickly; the carriage is at the door. "

No explanations. 

We hurried so much that we left our best soap and our mascot, abeautiful little wooden chicken, behind for ever. The major was waitingin the bar room. 

We were sorry to say good-bye, he was lonely, and we liked him; but welost no time, as we were seven hours from Podgoritza and goodness knowshow far from Cettinje. 

The carriage and coachman were the same as yesterday's, but hisexpression was so lugubrious in the downpouring rain that he lookedanother man. 

Just outside the village he picked up a friend and put her in thecarriage. She was a velvet-coated old lady with a flat white face andtwo bright birdlike brown eyes which she never took off us. Conversation was impossible, as she had only one tooth, round which herspeech whistled unintelligibly, and she hiccuped loudly once in everyhalf-hour. We were most uncomfortable. The hood was up, and a piece oftarpaulin was stretched from it across to the coachman's seat, blockingout the view except for the little we could see through a tiny triangle. 

What with three humans, our bags, the old lady's bundle, and an enormoussponge cake, we were very cramped, and whenever we tried to move astiffened knee her bright eye was on it, and she made some suitableremark to which we always had to answer with "Ne rasumem, " "I don'tunderstand, " the while beaming at her to show we appreciated her effortsto put us at our ease. 

The mist and rain entirely obscured the view. Now and then a tree showedas a thumb-mark on the grey. We little knew that we were passing throughsome of the most marvellous scenery in Europe. 

The carriage settled down with a bump. Something wrong with the harness;string was produced, and it was made usable for the next half-hour. Carriages in Montenegro must have been designed in the days whenbuilders thought more of voluptuous curves than of breaking strains, forwe have never been in one of them without many halts, during which thecoachman endeavoured to tie the carriage together with string or wire toprevent it from coming in two. 

We stopped at wayside inns and politely treated the old lady to coffeeat a penny a cup to make up for our inappreciation of her conversationalpowers. 

Women passed carrying the usual enormous bundles. Sometimes they wereaccompanied by husbands or brothers, who strolled along entirelyunladen. 

Jo busily sketched everybody she saw. 

Passers-by demanded, "What is she doing?" and the onlookers answered--

"She is writing us;" for everything that is done with pencil on paper isto them writing. 

One pretty young woman shook her fist, laughing--

"If I could write, I would write _you_, " she said. 

We were no longer in the Sanjak. Turkish influence had vanished, and welonged to see the famous Black Mountains of old Montenegro. 

At Danilograd we marvelled at the enormous expensive bridge which seemedto lead to nothing but a couple of tiny villages. We missed thepicturesque Turkish houses, built indeed only for to-day like theirroads, but full of unexpected corners and mysterious balconies. TheMontenegrin houses were small and simple, four walls and a roof, likethe drawing of a three-year-old child. The only thing lacking was thecurly smoke coming from the chimney. Broad streets lined with thesehouses were unexhilarating in effect, and would have been moredepressing except for the bright colours with which they were painted. 

When the horses were replete after their midday meal we loaded up, adding to our numbers a taciturn man who sat on the box. We rolled on toPodgoritza, arriving at two o'clock in a steady downpour. 

Podgoritza seemed unaware of our arrival. The streets were empty, andthe Prefect's offices were tenanted only by the porter, a Turk, whoremarked that the Prefect was taking his siesta, and seemed to thinkthat was the end of it. 

This was awful, after being Highnesses for a week, to be treated justlike ordinary people, and perhaps to lose all chance of reachingCettinje that night. 

"Produce the Prefect, " said Jo, stamping her foot, but the Turk onlysmiled and suggested a visit to the adjutant's office. Back to thecarriage we went and drove to a place like a luggage depôt. No adjutant, nothing but giggling boys. Our coachman became restive and said hishorses were tired of the rain, so we deposited the old lady, substituted a man in American clothes who seemed sympathetic, and droveback to the Prefect's office with him. There we found a sleepylieutenant who ordered coffee, while our American-speaking friendexplained to him that we were very Great People, and that somethingought immediately to be done for us. So the officer promised to get thePrefect as soon as possible, and we went to the hotel to drink morecoffee with our baggy-trousered friend, who told us that he was one of ahuge contingent of Montenegrins who had travelled from America to fightfor the little country. "Say, who are your pals?" said a nasal voice, and the owner, a pleasant-looking man in a broad-shouldered mackintosh, took a seat at our table. He was also a Montenegrin, and had been miningin America for some years. More coffees were ordered. We confided to thenew American Montenegrin that we did not like Podgoritza, and he triedto find excuses--the hour, the bad weather. The hotel-keeper came up andintimated in awestruck tones that the Prefect had just looked in withsome friends. 

Our appearance did not seem to impress the Prefect in the least, andsmall wonder. He owned to having received a telegram about us, but therewas no motor-car available for that day, and he departed. 

"The Prefect is only more unpleasant than Podgoritza, " said Jo to theAmerican in the mackintosh; but he deduced dyspepsia. 

The Prefect, having been to his office and having seen the lieutenant, came back in five minutes, rather more suave in manner, and announcedimpressively that he was going to give us his own carriage. 

But the rain, the giggling boys, the smiling Turk, and the sudden dropfrom royalty to insignificance had been rankling in Jo's mind. She satback haughtily and remarked--

"But the Sirdar promised us a motor-car. "

"I will go and see if it is possible, " said the Prefect, and he dashedout into the rain. He returned full of apologies. All the motors wereout, but he would send his carriage round immediately. "A delightfulcarriage, " he added. 

It arrived--a landau such as one would find at Waddingsgate-super-Mare, so free from scars that every Montenegrin turned to look at it. 

The hotel-keepers, our American friends, and the Prefect and his captainstood pointing out its beauties, and we left them standing in the rain. 

"I shall always put on side in this country, " said Jo as she bit a largemouthful of cheese. 

We pounded along, and the day slowly grew darker. We passed anencampment, where the firelight thrown up on to the trees made a weirdand jolly sight. 

The hours passed by slowly. Suddenly (our coachman was probably dozing)we ran into something. It was a carriage, a square grey thing. Ourcoachman howled to it, and it started slowly forward up the steep hill. A bright light streamed from the windows and cut a radiant path in thefoggy rains. Some one threw away a cigar-end. The wet road shining inthe glare of our pink candles, and the lightning flashing intermittentlyso that the mountain-tops sprang out to disappear again in the darkness;we felt as if we were living in the introduction of a mystery story fromthe _Strand Magazine_. 

At last in the misty rain we saw the aura of the lights of Cettinje. Atlast we wound slowly into wet streets, passed our mysterious companionwithout being able to see who was in it, and so to the hotel. Since themorning we had driven fourteen hours, and we were glad beyond measure tostretch and to find really comfortable beds. 

The next day we got up early. There was much to do. We were to see theWar Minister about Scutari, to present a letter of introduction to theEnglish minister, and to inspect the town. 

Nature has half filled a big crater with silt, and the Montenegrinshave half covered it with Cettinje. 

It is a polychromatic village of little square houses, cheerfullydreary, and one does not see its uses except to be out of the way. Theonly building with any architectural beauty is the monastery where theold bishops reigned, and which must have many a queer tale to tell. 

Asking for the Count de Salis, the English minister, we were directed tothe diplomatic street, a collection of tiny houses grouped respectfullyin front of the Palace, which itself was no larger than a Park Lanehouse laid edgeways, and with the paint peeling from its walls. 

Over the front door of each little house a sort of barber's pole stuckoutwards, striped with the national colours of the minister livingwithin. 

We noticed with pride and relief that the Count de Salis' pole waspainted a reticent white. The sympathetic old lady who opened the doordirected us to the Legation. There we found him inspecting the damageswreaked by the storm of overnight. The Legation was big and cold, and asthe handsome fireplaces sent out by the British Board of Works were foranthracite only (and Montenegro produces only wood), the Englishminister preferred his warm cottage to the unheated Palace. 

He wished us luck in our quest for Scutari, and asked us to tea. Wethen hurried to an awful building where the governing of Montenegro wasdone--a concrete erection, presented to Montenegro by the BritishGovernment, and an exact imitation of one of our workhouses. Here wefound the Minister of War, a gorgeously dressed little man with apleasant grandfatherly gleam in his eye. He only spoke Serbian, but withhim was an unshaven young man whose chest was covered with golddanglers, who immediately began to air his quite passable French. Weexplained what we had been doing and what we wanted to do. The WarMinister had not heard of US from the Sirdar, who had been resting afterhis terrific ride, but said that they were to see each other that day. The little man beamed upon us, and said they always wished to doanything for the English, but he must first see the Sirdar. 

"By the bye, " he said, "I forgot to introduce you. This is Prince Peter, commander of the forces on the Adriatic coast. " The young man arose andclicked his heels. We too got up. He shook hands with us solemnly, andJo, unused to addressing Royalty, said, "Dobra Dan" (Good day). 

Then we all sat down again, a further rendezvous was arranged for theevening, and we left, carrying away the impression that the War Ministerand we had bowed thirty times to each other before we got out of thedoor. 

Out in the streets, as we were sketching, we saw a large smile under aStaff officer's cap bearing down upon us. It was the Sirdar, quiterested and looking twenty years younger. He was going to the WarMinister's, and promised to arrange at once for our visit to Scutari. Helooked at our cryptic drawings of road scavengers, threw up his handsand ejaculating "Kako"--strode out of our lives. 

Tea in the little house with the discreet white pole was a greatpleasure. Such tea we had not drunk since leaving England--butter, jammade by the old housekeeper, who pointed this out to us when she broughtin a relay of hot water. 

She was the daughter of a man who had been exiled from his villagebecause he had taken a prominent part in a blood feud, and the oldGospodar had told him he would be healthier elsewhere. So they hademigrated as far as Serbia, where she had learnt to read and write. 

A lady of good family but bad character suddenly decided to leaveMontenegro, and fled to the shores of Cattaro, carrying with her a largenumber of State secrets. The Court was aghast. What was to be done?

A villain was needed. The father was decided upon, and with the help ofthe lady's brothers she was kidnapped, carried back to Montenegro, anddisappeared for ever. For which noble work he was permitted to return tohis village. 

The old lady had a supreme contempt for the Montenegrins who had not"travelled, " but she looked upon the growing pomp of the Court withsuspicion. 

"Ah, " she said, "those were fine days when the king was only theGospodar, and there were none of these gold embroidered uniforms about, and the Queen and I used to slide down the Palace banisters together. "

In those days the Royal family inhabited the top story only, while theground floor was filled with wood for the winter. Just round the cornerwas the old pink palace, now used as a riding school. It had been thefirst place in Montenegro to possess a billiard-table. So, billiard-tables being rarer and more curious than kings--the palace hadbeen called the BILLIADO. 

The Queen, whatever agility she may have possessed once when navigatingbanisters, is now a sedate and domestic person, and doesn't hold withbluestockings, notwithstanding the "Higher Education" of some of herdaughters. 

The story goes that once when the King was away she inaugurated one ofthose thorough-paced spring cleanings dear to most women's hearts;ordered the dining-room furniture into the street, and superintended thebeating of it. Women hold a poor position in Montenegro, but one ofcharacter can carry all before her. A well-known English nurse wasmanaging a hospital in Cettinje during the first Balkan War. One of herpatients, though well connected as peasants often are in Montenegro, wasa drunken old reprobate, and she told the authorities he must go. Theydemurred--his relations must not be offended. She insisted. They didnothing. One morning they found him, bed and all, in the middle of thestreet opposite the King's palace. 

The authorities swallowed their lesson. 

In the evening we walked over the stony hills with our host, and firsthad a glimpse of the real character of the country which had for so longkept the Turks at bay. One realized how much the people owed to the landfor their boasted independence. Barren rock and scrub oak, no army couldlive here in sufficient numbers to subdue even a semi-warlike nation. Cettinje has been burned many a time by the Moslem, but starvationeventually drove him back to the fatter plains of the Sanjak, leaving aprofitless victory behind him. Napoleon and Moscow over again. 

More miners from America passed with their showy machine-woven clothes, accompanied by their wives, who had evidently stayed behind in the oldcountry. Otherwise they would have picked up new-fangled ideas about therights of women, and would certainly have refused to shoulder theenormous American suit cases while their men ambled carelessly in front. 

The next day we had a further interview with the War Minister, whointroduced to us a man in corduroys, the only really round-faced personwe had met in Montenegro. Part of his name was "Ob, " so as we forgot therest of it we called him Dr. Ob. He was the minister of drains, and suchthings. As nothing had been previously explained to him about us, hecovered his mystification by hailing us jovially, after which hemisconstrued everything we said. 

He became very excited when we said we had brought 14, 000 kilos ofstores into Montenegro. 

"But we have not got it yet, " he ejaculated. We explained that it wasfor the English hospital, and he subsided, very disappointed. 

Scutari was talked over again, and Dr. Ob promised to come and tell usthat evening if Cettinje could supply a motor for the next morning. 

More bows and smiles, and we left wondering. Montenegrins always promiseeven when they have no intention of performance--something like thestage Irishman, --and we were surprised when Dr. Ob met us in the eveningand said that the motor was arranged for next morning at eight. 

We tea'd with the count once more. In the next house lived a gorgeousold gentleman, and we heard that he had been War Minister for forty oddyears. After thirty years or so of office it was considered that hecould better uphold the dignity of his position were he able to sign hisname. So he had to learn. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII

THE LAKE OF SCUTARI

Dr. Ob, dressed in thick corduroys and an enormous pith helmet, arrivedpunctually with the motor, a Montenegrin Government motor. He had twocompanions, a girl simply dressed with coat and skirt which did notmatch, and cotton gloves whose burst finger ends were not darned, a MissPetrovitch, and an officer. The coachwork--if one may dignify it by sucha phrase--which was made from packing cases, had a thousand creaks andone abominable squeak, which made conversation impossible. The scenerywas all grey rock and little scrubby trees; the road was magnificent andwound and twisted about the mountain side like a whip lash. Driving downthese curves was no amateur's game, and we saw immediately that ourchauffeur knew his job. We came over a ridge, and in the far distance, gleaming like the sun itself, a corner of the Lake of Scutari showedbetween two hill crests. 

We ran into a fertile valley, passed through Rieka--where was the firstSlavonic printing-press--and up into the barren mountains once more. The peasants seem very industrious, every little pocket of earth is herecarefully cultivated and banked almost in Arab fashion. The houses, too, were better, and rather Italian with painted balconies, but are built ofporous stone and are damp in winter. The Rieka river ran along the roadfor some way, very green and covered with water-lily pods. 

We passed a standing carriage, in which was a large man in Montenegrinclothes, and a little further on passed a man in a grey suit walking. Dr. Ob gesticulated wildly, and pulled up the motor to gather in aFrenchman--somebody in the French legation who was going to Scutari fora week end. He turned suddenly to Jan. 

"Ce n'est pas une vie, monsieur, " were the first words he uttered. Headmired Miss Petrovitch very much, and told us in an undertone that shewas a daughter of the governor of Scutari, niece of the King ofMontenegro, and one of "les familles le plus chic. "

We descended steeply to the Port, ten variously coloured houses andtwenty-five variously clothed people. Miss Petrovitch, to our amazement, embraced a rather dirty old peasant, the doctor disappeared to find usluncheon, the Frenchman to wash, and we strolled about. 

A voice hailed us, and turning round, we found our mackintoshed Americanof Pod. We took him to the inn and stood him a drink. Dr. Ob came in andwe introduced; but Dr. Ob was snifty and the American shy. His home wasnear by and he wished us to visit him, but there was no time. 

We lunched in a bedroom plastered with pictures. Montenegrins seem to beashamed of walls, and they adore royalty. In every room one findsportraits of the King of Montenegro, the queen, the princes, the King ofItaly, his queen, the Tzar of Russia, the grand dukes and duchesses, theKing of Serbia and his princes, and to cap all a sort of comprehensivetableau of all the male crowned heads of Europe--includingTurkey--balanced by another commemorating all the queens ofEurope--excluding Turkey--the spaces left between these august peopleare filled with family portraits, framed samplers, picture postcards ora German print showing the seven ages of man over a sort of step-ladder. 

After lunch, loaded with grapes which Miss Petrovitch's peasant friendbrought us, we trooped down to the steamer, which had been an oldTurkish gun monitor and had been captured when the Montenegrins tookScutari. 

The boat was crowded, and the Frenchman took refuge in the captain'scabin, which was crammed with red pepper pods, and went to sleep. Jobegan sketching at once. There were two full-blooded niggers aboard withus: they were descendants of the Ethiopian slaves of the harems; but therace is dying out, for the climate does not suit them. We steamed outinto the lake, down the "kingly" canal, a shallow ditch in the mud. Magnificent mountains rush down on every side to the water, in whichstunted willow trees with myriad roots--like mangroves--find anamphibious existence. We passed through their groves, hooting as thoughwe were leaving Liverpool, and out into the eau-de-nil waters of theopen lake. 

In three hours we reached Plavnitza, a quay on the mud, where morepassengers were waiting for our already crowded craft. There wereofficers, peasants, Turks, and soldiers clad in French firemen'suniforms. These uniforms, by the way, caused a lot of ill-feeling inMontenegro. The French sent them out in a spirit of pure economicalcharity, and had the Frenchmen not been, on the average, small, and theMontenegrin, contrariwise, large, perhaps the gift would have beenreceived with a better grace; but the sight of these enormous menbursting in all places from their all too tight regimentals, wasludicrous, and the soldiers felt it keenly. 

Two women came aboard, attached to officers, and wearing long lightblue coats, the ceremonious dress of all classes; one carried a woodencradle strapped on her back, the woman with no cradle had in her arms ababy of some ten or eleven months, which she fed alternately on grapesand pomegranate seeds. With each was a large family including a beastlylittle boy who spat all over the decks, and one of the fathers, a sterngold-laced officer, carried a dogwhip with which to rule his offspring. 

After a while we caught sight of Tarabosch, the famous mountain, andthen the silhouette of the old Venetian fortress. From the waterprojected the funnels of yet another Turkish ship which had been sunk inthe Balkan war, and we steamed into the amphibious trees on the mudflatsof Scutari. 

A boat with chairs in it came for us and we disembarked. The boat wasrather like one of those that children make from paper, called cockedhats, only rather elongated, and the rowers pushed at the oars whichhung from twisted osier loops. Governor Petrovitch met us on the quay. He was a fine-featured old man dressed in all the barbaric splendour ofa full national costume, pale green long-skirted coat, red goldembroidered waistcoat, and baggy dark blue knee breeches with a hugeamount of waste material in the seat. He kissed his daughter and greetedus genially. We clambered into the usual dilapidated cab with the usualdilapidated horses, and off to the hotel. 

The women on the roadside were clad in picturesque ever-varyingcostumes. There were narrow carts with high Indian-like wheels studdedwith large nails; there were Albanians in costumes of black and white, everything we had hoped or expected. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX

SCUTARI

After a wash we went into the streets. It was the Orient, just asEastern as Colombo or Port Said. The little fruit and jewellers' shopswith square lanterns, the tailors sitting cross-legged in their windows, the strange medley of costumes--even the long lean dogs looked as ifthey had been kicked from the doors of a thousand mosques. 

We left the shops for further explorations. Scutari has always beendescribed as such a beautiful town. The adjective does not seempicturesque: yes, quaint, strange decidedly. One's second impressionafter the shops is this:--

[Illustration]

Miles and miles of walls with great doors. The main streets branch outinto thousands of impasses each ending in a locked door. There arehardly any connecting streets, for somebody's walled garden is between. The Mahommedans hide in seclusion on one side of the town, while theirhated enemies the Christians live on the other. Each house, Turk orChristian, has the same air of defiant privacy, the only differencebeing that the Turk's windows are blocked with painted lattice. TheMahommedan women's faces are covered with several thicknesses ofchiffon, generally black, while the Christian peasant women walk aboutwith an eye and a half peering from the shrouding folds of a cotton headshawl which they hold tightly under their noses. 

With difficulty we found the English consul's house, as the Albaniansspeak no Serb and Montenegrins were not to be found at every streetcorner. At last we found it appropriately enough in the Rue du Consulatd'Angleterre. A gorgeous old butler resembling a wolf ushered us fromthe blank walled street into a beautiful square garden filled withflowering shrubs and creepers. Not to be outdone by the colours of theflowers, the butler was clad in a red waistcoat, embroidered with gold, a green cloth coat, blue baggy trousers, and a red fez with a tasselnearly a yard long, while a connoisseur's mouth would have watered atthe sight of his antique silver watch-chain with its exquisitely workedhanging blobs. 

The interior of the house gave an impression of vast roominess. Widestairs, a huge upper landing like a reception-room, a panelleddrawing-room large enough to lose one's self in, ornamented by primitivefrescoes on the walls above the panels. 

The English consul was an old Albanian gentleman with delightfulmanners. For a long time he had been suffering from an illness which hadstarted from a wound in the head, received during the siege of Scutari. After the inevitable coffee and cigarettes his son wandered out with usand showed us the interesting parts of the town. Out of a big doorwaycame two women in gorgeous clothes. They had been paying a morning call, and bade farewell to their hostess. Doubtless they were mother anddaughter. 

One was faded and beautiful; the younger was of the plump cream androses variety with modestly downcast eyes. Both wore enormous white laceMary Queen of Scots' veils, great baggy trousers made of stiff shinyblack stuff, which was gathered into hard gold embroidered pipes whichencased the ankles and upwards. These pipes were so stiff that they hadto walk with straight knees and feet far apart. Their full cavaliercoats were thickly covered with many kilometres of black braid sewn onin curly patterns, and the girl wore at least a hundred golden coinshung in semicircles on her chest. 

They left the third woman at the door and walked back a few steps downthe road, then turned, and laying hand on breast, bowed ceremoniously, first the mother, then the daughter, who never lifted her eyes; anothertwenty steps and again the same performance; still once more, afterwhich they slowly waddled round the corner. Suma told us they wore thecostume of the _haute bourgeoisie_, and probably the girl had been takento see her future mother-in-law. 

The next vision that met our eyes was the doctor in his best clothes, frock-coat, white spats, gloves, and a minute pork-pie cap perched onthe top of his spherical countenance. 

"In Scutari it is necessary that I should be _en tenue_, " was hisexplanation. 

Suma parted with us, promising to take us to the bazaar the next day, and we spent the afternoon sketching and avoiding a dumb idiot who triedto amuse us by standing on his head in front of whatever object we choseto sketch, and at intervals thrust into our hands a letter which hethought was a money producing talisman. It said in English, "Kick thischap if he bothers you. "

There are other traces of the English soldiery here. Little childrenwith outstretched hands flock round, saying in coaxing tones "Garn, " or"Git away you, " under the impression that they are saying "please. "

At a street corner we saw a professional beggar, a shattered man ofdrooping misery, his rags vieing with the colour of the road. Jo beganto sketch, but he promptly sat up, twirled his long moustaches, and froma worm became a lion. One may be a beggar in Albania, but as long as onehas moustaches one is at least a man. 

The bazaar next day filled our wildest dreams. Queerly clad peasants ofall tribes came down from the mountains bearing rugs, rubbish, whitecloths, cheese, honey, poultry, pigs, and they sat on the ground behindtheir wares in the blazing heat, while all the rest of Northern Albaniacame to purchase. The little shops set out their pottery, silver-wareand brightly striped veils. Jo lifted up a woman's leather belt coveredwith silver, thinking how nice it would look on a modern skirt; but shedropped it with a crash, for the leather was a quarter of an inch thick, and the silver equally weighty. 

Veiled women bargained and chaffered with the rest, some dressed inwhite with black chiffon covering their faces, and others still morebizarre, wore flowered chiffon, one large flower perhaps covering thearea of one cheek and nose. 

More fanatic in religion than their men, they objected to beingsketched, crouching to the ground and covering themselves completelywith draperies, so we had to desist. 

There can be no arguments about beauty in these lands. It goes by"volume. "

Put the ladies on the scales, and in case of a tie, measure them roundthe hips. 

Vendors pressed gold-embroidered zouaves, antique arms and filigreesilver-ware upon us; but we ever looked elsewhere, and Jo suddenlypounced on a handkerchief, or rather a conglomeration of bits sewntogether, each being a remnant of brilliant coloured patterned stuff. 

"But that has no value, " said Suma, smiling. 

"Never mind, I shall wear it as a hat, " said Jo; and Suma, somewhatperplexed, lowered his dignity and bargained for it. 

We next saw a brilliantly striped rug hanging on the wall behind an oldwoman, red, green, yellow, black and white, just what we wanted. Sheconsented to take thirteen silver cronen for it, but no Montenegrinpaper. She explained she was poor. She had brought up the sheep, spunand dyed the wool, and had woven the beautiful thing, and now she wantedsilver because outside Scutari, in which the Montenegrins forcedacceptance of their notes by corporal punishment, paper was worthnothing. To get the silver we went into a general store and sold asovereign. 

[Illustration: JO AND MR. SUMA IN THE SCUTARI BAZAAR. ]

While we were waiting for the money-changer, two Miridite women came in. They had short hair dyed black, white coarse linen chemises withlarge sleeves, embroidered zouaves, white skirts with front and backaprons lavishly embroidered, striped trousers, and stockings knitted ongreat diagonal patterns. 

One of them told Suma that their village was in possession of EssadPacha, that all their husbands had fled, and were still fighting in thehills. 

Suma, for a joke, asked her what she thought of Jo. Passing her eyesover Jo's uninflated frame, she hesitated, but was urged to speak thetruth. 

"I think she is forty, " she remarked; and then somehow Jo was not quitepleased. 

The midday heat being overwhelming we took a cab and drove back alongtwo kilometres of dusty road. A veiled woman stopped the coachman, asking him to give her tired little girl a lift. Jehu refused, throughawe of us; but we insisted on taking her, and begged the woman to comein too. Jo held out her hands, but the woman shrank back horrified, though obviously worn out with the heat. 

"That is a pity, " laughed Suma. "I hoped she would do it. It would havebeen a new experience for me. "

Jo confided to him her burning desire to enter a harem, but as he had noMahommedan friends he thought the possibility remote. 

Two more bourgeois women passed. Jan photographed them, but not beforethey hid their faces with umbrellas. Even the Christian men areintensely jealous, and their women have some Turkish ideals. We spentthe afternoon sketching outside a barber's shop, coffee being brought tous on a hanging tray with a little fire on it to keep the coffee warm. Opposite was a shop which combined the trades of blacksmith andfishmonger. It seemed the strangest mixture. 

We dined with the Frenchman. He was a queer fellow, seeming onlyinterested in economies, his digestion and his old age; and he discussedthe possible places where an old man might live in comfort. Egypt, hedismissed: too hot, and an old man does not want to travel. The Greekislands had earthquakes. Corfu, he had heard, was depressing; while inthe Canaries there was sometimes a wind and one might catch cold. Wesuggested "heaven, " and he looked hurt. He had been in Scutari inDecember. He told us that after dark it was impossible to walk down thegreat main street, which divides Christian from Turk, without carrying alighted lantern to signal that you were not on nefarious intent, or youmight be shot. 

[Illustration: CHRISTIAN WOMEN HIDING FROM THE PHOTOGRAPHER. ]

[Illustration: SCUTARI--BAZAAR AND OLD VENETIAN FORTRESS. ]

Mr. Suma came along the next day in good time and gave Jan a letter forthe Count de Salis. We bade him a most cordial farewell, assuring himprophetically that we should revisit Scutari--little did we dream inwhat circumstances, --and he said we would then see the "Maison Pigit, " ashow castle which he had, in vain, urged us to visit. Paget was anEnglishman who seems to have spent ten or twelve years dreaming awaylife in Scutari, and collecting ancient weapons. With the outbreak ofthe South African war he disappeared. He was then heard of fighting forthe Turk against the Italian, and later for the Turk against the Balkanalliance. He has never returned. 

With Dr. Ob we drove to the quay, on the road passing an old womanstaggering along beneath the weight of a complete iron and brassbedstead. 

As we got out of our carriage we noticed a rabble of Turks hurryingtowards us. In its midst was a brougham with windows tight shut andveiled, from which we guessed that some light of the harem was to be afellow passenger. The carriage halted, and whatever was within washustled from the farthest door and in the midst of the dense mob of menhurried down the quay. The side of the steamer was crowded with craft, so we passed beneath the stern to embark on the far side, to find thatthe Turkish lady and her escort had passed beneath the bows for asimilar purpose. We caused a flutter, the beauty was hastily lifted onboard like a bale of goods, and we caught a glimpse of magnificent pinkbrocaded trousers and jewelled shoes beneath her red orange covering. Two women--one a Christian--followed, and when she was seated, bent overher as a sort of screen to hide even her clothes from the gaze of thenaughty infidel. 

Governor Petrovitch came down to the quay to bid us good-bye. With himcame his daughter, who was returning with us. She had nothinginteresting to say about Scutari. The Frenchman had brought with him acook whom he had engaged to look after his digestion. 

We found comfortable seats on a long box with a bale as a back rest, andthe governor sent two chairs for the ladies. As we steamed away wepondered on the problem of Scutari. 

There are in all, say, 300, 000 Serbs, a high estimate, in allMontenegro. The population of the Sanjak and its cities, Plevlie, Ipek, Berane, and Jakovitza, are of course largely Mussulman or Albanian, andalready the balance of people in the little mountain kingdom iswavering. If Montenegro adds to herself Scutari, a town in which theSerb population is practically "nil, " the scales swing over heavilyagainst the ruling classes, and either one will see Montenegro absorbScutari, to be in turn absorbed by Scutari itself; or we shall seethe crimes of Austro-Hungary repeated upon a smaller scale, andMontenegro will be some day condemned before a tribunal of Europe forcontinued injustice to the people entrusted to her. The Albanians loathethe Serb even more than they hate the Turk, and at present, in spite ofthe fact that they are on their best manners, the Montenegrin police andsoldiery have the appearance of a debt collector in the house of one whohas backed a friend's bill. 

[Illustration: DISEMBARKATION OF A TURKISH BRIDE. ]

[Illustration: GOVERNOR PETROVITCH AND HIS DAUGHTER IN THEIR STATEBARGE. ]

An Albanian noble said to Jan, "We are quiet now: the Powers have notime to waste upon us, and we are not going to revolt and let ourselvesbe murdered without redress. But, if after the war things are notrighted, monsieur, there will be a revolution every day. "

We saw a pelican, and of course some one had to try and kill it; butluckily the criminal was an average shot only. The pelican flew offflapping its broad white wings. The Frenchman told us that the Turkishlady round the corner is a gipsy bride to be. A light dawned upon us. The bed, these boxes we were sitting upon: she was taking her furniturewith her. Jan peered round at her. She was sitting on a low stool, andthe two screens were standing at duty. They had chosen the most secludedspot in the boat, which was next to the boilers. The day itself was veryhot, and the atmosphere within the poor bride's thick coverings musthave been awful, though when nobody was looking she was allowed to raisefor a second the many thicknesses of black chiffon which shrouded herface, and to gasp a few chestfulls of fresh air. 

Dr. Ob suddenly produced a large sheep's head which he dissected withmedical knowledge. He gouged out an eye which he offered to Jo; upon herrefusing the succulent morsel he gave a sigh of relief and wolfed ithimself. One of the men on board had a fiddle, and played us across thelake. Some one said, "Give us the Merry Widow. "

He shook his head. 

"Come on, " said his tempter, "there's no one here. Give it us. " At last, looking at Miss Petrovitch and us, the musician timidly started themusic, for the "Merry Widow" is "straffed" in Montenegro as one of thecharacters is a caricature of Prince Danilo, hence everybody plays itwith gusto in private. 

We came again to Plavnitza. A huge crowd of Turks were waiting for us;one wild befezzed ruffian had a concertina and was capering to his ownstrains. 

We were suddenly disturbed, the box was wrested away, the bundles also, the bed was carried off, also a tin dish too small for a bath, too bigfor a basin, and a tin watering pot--the bride's trousseau. The bridewas seized by two men, her brothers we were told, and carried up thestairs to a waiting brougham, the trousseau was piled upon a bullockcart, and shouting and singing and dancing the _cortège_ moved out ofsight. 

At Virbazar the steamer could not come to the quay, so the authoritiesran a five-inch rounded tree trunk from the boat to the mud. Many daredthe perilous crossing, and one nearly fell into the water. Dr. Ob wasfurious, and at last a plank was substituted. Then we found that theonly way off the mud was by clambering round a corner of wall on someshaky stepping stones. Dr. Ob fumed, his little round face grew rounder, his moustache went up and down, he threatened everybody with instantexecution, like the Red Queen in "Alice. " Then he found that no motorwas awaiting us. He rushed to the telephone while we had a belatedlunch. No motors; one was out taking the Serbian officers for ajoy-ride; Prince Peter had taken the other to Antivari. Montenegroseemed to have no more. We soothed ourselves with "American" grapes. This grape tastes not unlike strawberries and cream, but not having thesame sentimental associations, does not come off quite as well. We hearda motor coming. Dr. Ob ran out to intercept it. It was crammed. Thenthe telephone boy brought a message that Prince Peter's motor would notreturn till to-morrow. 

Miss Petrovitch wrung her hands. 

"We cannot stay here the night, " she said. 

"Are the bugs awful?" we asked. 

"It's not the bugs, it's those dreadful women, " she answered. "We shallall be murdered in our beds. "

Now the women appeared to us most inoffensive. 

Dr. Ob was purple with rage. He stamped his foot. 

"But I am a minister, " he kept repeating crescendo, till he shouted tothe villagers, "But I am a minister. "

It is impossible to take Montenegro seriously. Situations occur at everycorner which remind one irresistibly of "the Rose and the Ring, " and wewondered what would happen next. There were other belated passengers whohad hoped for conveyance, and the Frenchman's carriage had not turnedup. Dr. Ob at last decided to commandeer a cocked hat boat rowed by fourwomen with which to navigate the river to Rieka, and thence by carriageto Cettinje if carriages came. It was six p. M. , we might reach Rieka byten. 

We rowed out through the half-sunken trees. At the end of a spit of landwas a man gnawing a piece of raw beef. We shouted to him to ask what hewas doing; and he answered that he was curing his malaria. The two womenin the bow were very pretty, one was a mere child. 

There were wisps of sunset cloud in the sky, and soon night came quitedown. 

As it grew dark all sense of motion disappeared. The boat shruggeduneasily with the movement of the oars, the rowlocks made of loops oftwisted osier creaked, but one could not perceive that one was goingforwards. The hills lost their solidity, becoming mere holes in the greyblue of the sky, a bright planet made a light smudge on the ruffledwater in which the stars could not reflect. As we crept forwards intothe river and the mountains closed in, the water became more calm, andthe stars came out one by one beneath us, while in the ripple of ourwake the image of the planet ran up continuously in strings of littlegolden balls like a juggling trick. 

The Frenchman turned his head and made a noise like the rowlocks. "Ilfaut chanter quand même, " he explained, "pour encourager les autres. " Jothen started "Frère Jacques. " Jan and Dr. Ob took it up till theFrenchman burst in with an entirely different time and key. Then one ofthe oar girls began a queer little melody on four notes only, and allthe four women joined, one end of the boat answering the other. Theysang through their noses, and high up in the falsetto. By shutting one'seyes one could imagine a great ox waggon drawn uphill by four bullocksand one of the wheels ungreased. Yet it was not unpleasing, this queershrill, recurrent rhythm, the monotonous creak and splash of the oars, the mystery of feeling one's way in the blue gloom, through reed andwater-lily beds, up this cliff-bound river, and far away the fainttwitter--also recurrent and monotonous--of some nightjar. .. . 

The night grew bitterly cold on the water. One of our passengers, alittle Russian dressmaker, had malaria and shivered with ague. Jo gaveher her cloak. The Frenchman's cook was unsuitably dressed, for she hadon but a thin chiffon blouse. We ourselves had summer clothes, and wewere all mightily glad to see the glare of Rieka in the sky. 

Our luck be praised, there were two old carriages with older horses, andanother for the Frenchman. We supped moderately at a restaurant kept byan Austrian, and still shivering scrambled into the carriages. We had nolights, but the road was visible by the stars. 

We went up and up, up the same road down which we had come three daysbefore. Below one could see strange planes of different darknesses, butnot any shape, and soon one was too aware of physical discomfort tonotice the night. Besides, one had had enough of night. Miss Petrovitchtold the boy to hurry up the horses; he beat them; she then rebuked himfor beating them. After a while the boy grew tired of her contradictoryorders, and lying down on the box fell fast asleep. The poor old horsesplodded along. To right and left were immense precipices, but nobodyseemed to care. 

We reached Cettinje about two a. M. , found the hotel open, and a roomready for us, and in spite of our frozen limbs were soon asleep. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER X

THE HIGHWAY OF MONTENEGRO

We went next day to see the doctor, who was late, so we strolled out tothe market. They were selling grapes and figs, fresh walnuts, and lotsof little dried fish, strung on to rings of willow, from the lake ofScutari. The scene, with the men in their costumes of red and blue, thewomen all respectably dressed in long embroidered coats of pale blue orwhite, and the village idiot, a man prancing about dressed in nothingbut a woman's overall, was very gay. We caught the doctor later. He wastalking with a Mrs. G----, an Englishwoman, from the hospital atPodgoritza: she was trying to hustle him as one hustles the butcher whohas belated the meat. The doctor had let up his efforts since his orgyof respectability in Scutari, and his beard and whiskers were enjoying ahalf-inch holiday from the razor. With him was a Slav-Hungarian, whorecommended us to go home by Gussigne, Plav and Ipek, the best sceneryin all Montenegro he said; he himself had just returned from Scutari, whence he had advanced with a Montenegrin army halfway across Albania. At each village the natives had fled, burying their corn and driving offtheir cattle, leaving the villages deserted, and the army, starving, hadat last been forced to retire. Dr. Ob promised us a motor by four, butadded that they had no oil and very little benzine. Then growing moreconfidential, he took us by the buttonholes and asked us to use our bestinfluence with the Count de Salis, and request him to tell the Admiraltyto allow petrol to be brought up from Salonika, where the British hadlaid an embargo upon it. He promised pathetically that _all_ the petrolwould be brought up overland. 

Intensely amused by the doctor's idea of our importance, we solemnlydelivered his message to the Count. 

We went to the Serbian Minister, a charming man with a freebooter'sface, for our passports, and then back to Dr. Ob. The motor was goingoff at 6. 30 he said. We cheered internally, for we were getting tired ofCettinje, which reminded us of a watchmaker's wife with her best silkdress on. On our way downstairs we called in to thank the Minister ofWar for our jolly trip; and he wished us "Bon voyage. "

We got en route almost up to time, with us was Mrs. G----, who was alsogoing back as far as Podgoritza. She was storekeeper and accountant forthe Wounded Allies, and ever had a hard and troublesome task betweenwhat she needed and what she could get from the Sanitary Department. Shetook the front seat with Jo, and inside Jan found a French sailor of thewireless telegraphy, who had had typhoid fever, but was now going backto work. As we rattled down the curves and along the edge of thedarkening chasms of the mountain side, he summed up with the brevity ofa "rapin. "

"Dans la journée ici, vous savez, il y'a de quoi faire des clichés. "

We stopped at Rieka for water, and then on once more. In the glare ofour headlights, little clumps of soldiers, with donkeys loaded with thenew uniforms, loomed suddenly out of the darkness. Once a donkey tookfright and bolted back, and the soldier in charge yelled and pointed hisrifle at us. If we had moved he would have shot without compunction. Later the men had bivouacked, and all along the rest of the road wepassed little fires of fresh brushwood, the sparks pouring up likefountains into the night, round which the soldiers and drivers weresitting and singing their weird songs. 

At Podgoritza we found Dr. Lilias Hamilton at supper with her staff. Shehas had rather a hard time. The hospital was intended for Ipek, but forsome reason, although there were wounded in the town, the Montenegrinsdecided to move it to Podgoritza, where there were none. After adifficult journey across the mountains they settled down, but couldnever get sufficient transport from the Government to bring their storesover, except in small quantities. They started to work, but as therewere few soldiers to treat, Dr. Lilias, being a lady, interested herselfin the Turkish female population, a thing which the Montenegrins thoughta criminal waste of time, and tried to stop. 

We got a bedroom in the hotel, and tired out, tried to sleep; but theoccupants of the café began a set of howling songs, very unmusical, andkept us awake till past twelve. We have never heard this kind of singinganywhere else. 

Next day we crossed the river and explored the quaint and beautifulstreets of the Turkish quarter. The people are equally offensive on bothsides of the town; however, Podgoritza seems to be the White-chapel ofMontenegro--and we finally had to take refuge in the sheds of the Frenchwireless telegraphy. The commandant at the motor depôt again treated usrudely, but the Prefect was nice, this time. He promised us a carriageon the morrow if no motor were forthcoming. 

After supper the people began the awful howling songs; also there was awild orchestra which had one clarinet for melody and about ten deepbass trumpets for accompaniment. 

Next morning no carriage came, so off to the Prefect. He promised one"odmah, " which being translated is "at once, " but means really within"eight or nine hours. " We waited. Nine a. M. Passed. Ten a. M. Went by. Asmall boy sneaked up and tried to sell some contraband tobacco; but Janhad just bought "State. " An angry Turkish gentleman came and said thathis horses had been requisitioned to take us to Andrievitza, and that weweren't going to get them till one o'clock, because he was using them. We returned to the Prefect, not to complain--oh no--but to ask him totelegraph to Andrievitza that we were coming. He was naturally surprisedto see us again, and explanations followed. A very humbled and muchbetter tempered Turk came to the café to say that the horses would bewith us "odmah. "

A drizzle had been falling all the morning; at last the carriage came. Our driver was a wretched half-starved, high-cheeked Moslem in rags, whose trousers were only made draught proof by his sitting on the holes. He tried to squeeze another passenger upon us; but we were wiser, andwere just not able to understand what he was saying. Our Turk's methodof driving was to tie the reins to the carriage rail, flourishing a whipand shouting with vigour; every ten minutes he glanced uneasilybackwards to see that nothing had broken loose or come away. 

The valley we entered had been very deep, but at some period had beenhalf filled by a deposit of sand and pebble which had hardened into acrumbling rock. We were driving over the gravelly shelf, above our headrose walls of limestone, and deep below was the river which had eatenthe softer agglomerate into a hundred fantastic caverns. All along theroad we passed groups of tramping volunteers fresh from America withstore clothes and suitcases; the sensible were also festooned withboots. It was pretty cold sitting in the carriage, and it grew colder aswe mounted. 

At last we halted to rest the horses at a café. The influence of "Pod"was heavy still. A group of grumpy people were sitting around a firebuilt in the middle of the floor; they did not greet us--which isunusual in Montenegro--but continued the favourite Serb recreation ofspitting. In the centre of them was an old man on a chair, alsoexpectorating, and by his side one older and scraggier, his waistcoatcovered with snuff and medals, palpitated in a state of senile decay, holding in a withered hand a palmfull of snuff which he had forgotten toinhale. There were a lot of women saying nothing and spitting. A sour, hard-faced woman admitted that there was coffee. 

Jo, trying to cheer things up a bit, said brightly--

"Is it far to Andrievitza?"

A woman mumbled, "Far, bogami. "

Jo again: "It is cold on the road. "

A long silence, broken with the sound of spitting, followed. At last awoman in the darkest corner murmured--

"Cold, bogami. "

It was like the opening of a Maeterlinckian play, but we gave it up, sipped our coffee, and when we had finished, fled outside into the coldwhich, after all, was warmer than these people's welcome. Outside we meta young man who spoke German, and as he wanted to show off, he stoppedto converse. We were joined by an older man who claimed to be hisfather. The father was really a jolly old boy. He said his son was apuny weakling, but as for himself he never had had a doctor in his life. So Jan tried his mettle with a cigar. An officer, a filthy old peasantin the remains of a battered uniform, joined the group, but he was notcharming; however, Jan offered him a cigarette. The old yokel rushed onhis fate. He said--

"Cigarettes are all very well; but I would rather have one of those yougave to the other fellow. "

The road wound on and up in the usual way, rain came down at intervals, and it grew colder and colder. At last we extracted all our spareclothes from the knapsack and put them on. We reached the top of thepass and began to rattle down the descent on the further side, and wekept our spirits up, in the growing gloom, by singing choruses: "The oldSwanee river" and "Uncle Ned. "

We pulled up at dusk at a dismal hovel, on piles, with rickety woodenstairs leading to a dimly lighted balcony over which fell deep woodeneaves. 

"Is this Jabooka?" we asked, for we had been told to alight at Jabooka. 

"No, " said the driver; "we cannot reach Jabooka to-night. But here arefine beds, fine, fine, fine!"

We climbed in. The rooms were whitewashed and looked all right, butthere was a funny smell. We shall know what it means a second time. There was a crowd of American Montenegrin volunteers in the kitchen. Onegay fellow was in a bright green dressing-gown like overcoat: he saidthat his wife--a hard-featured woman who looked as if nobody lovedher--had brought his saddle horse. We got some hard-boiled eggs andmaize bread. Maize bread is always a little gritty, for it has in itssubstance no binding material, but when it is well cooked and has plentyof crust is quite eatable. French cooking is far away, however, and thebread is usually a sort of soggy, half-baked flabby paste, mostunpalatable and most indigestible. Here was the worst bread we yet hadfound. 

They took us down a dark passage, in which huge lumps of raw meathanging from the walls struck one's hand with a chill, flabby caress asone passed. In our room, four benches were arranged into a pair ofwidish couches; mattresses were given us and coarse hand-woven rugs. Wewere then left. But we could not sleep; somehow lice were in one's mind, and at last Jan awoke and lit the tiny oil lamp. He immediately slew abug; then another; then a whopper; then one escaped; then Jo got one. Indesperation we got up, smeared ourselves with paraffin, and lay downagain in a dismal distressed doze till morning. 

Our driver was a dilatory dog: we had said that we would leave at fivea. M. , and at six he was washing his teeth in the little stream whichacted as the village sewer. As we were waiting our green-coated friendgot away on his saddle horse, with his wife walking at its tail; theother Americans climbed into a great three-horse waggon, dragged theirsuit-cases after them, and off they went. We left nearer seven than six. The air was chilly, and though there were bits of blue in the sky, thehills were floating in mist, and there was a sharp shower. There weremore groups of Americans trudging along, and also a fair number ofpeasants, the women, as usual, dignified and beautiful. Very hungry weat last came to Jabooka. A jolly woman--we were getting away from"Pod"--welcomed us and dragged us into the kitchen. She asked Jo manyquestions, one being, "What relation is he to you, that man with whomyou travel?" The fire on the floor was nearly out, but she rained stickson to it, blew up the great central log, which is the backbone, into ablaze, and soon the smoke was pouring into our eyes and filtering upamongst the hams in the roof. We were drinking a splendid café au laitwhen an old woman peered in at the door. 

"Very beautiful Jabooka, " she said. 

We agreed heartily. 

"Not dear either, " she said. 

We expressed surprise. 

"You can buy cheap, " she went on. 

We regretted that we did not wish to. 

"But you must eat to live, " she protested. 

We intimated that this was of the nature of a truism, but failed to seethe connection. 

"But look at them, " she expostulated, holding out a large basket ofapples; and we suddenly remembered that "Jabooka" means also apples, andrealized that she was not a land agent. 

Then on once more. In the deep valleys were large modern sawmills, butthe houses were ever poor, and the windows grew smaller and smaller andwere without glass. At the junction of the Kolashin road, from thenorth, we picked up a jolly Montenegrin with a big dog. He was a driverby profession, and he hurried our lethargic progress a little. Then thefront spring broke. It was mended with wire and a piece of tree; when westarted again the reins snapped. 

We halted once more at a café filled with Americans; some had only lefttheir native land six months agone, yet to the peasant they were all"Americans. " Some of them seemed very dissatisfied with the receptionwhich they had received, and we don't wonder. "In Ipek I coulden get myroom, " said one, "tho' I 'ad wired for 't, 'cause one o' them 'airypopes [Greek priests] 'ad come wid 'is fambly. I 'ad to sleep like a'og, you fellers, jess like a 'og. " We had been under the impressionthat burning patriotism had called all these men back to their country, but one sturdy fellow disabused us. 

"No, you fellers, " he said, "there weren't no work for us in 'Murrica. Mos' o' the places 'ad closed down ter a shift or two at the mos' perwik. And fer fellers wats used to livin' purty well there weren't enoughter pay board alone. We gotter come or we'd a starved. " Of course thiswas not true of many. 

On again, rain and sun alternating, but still we were cold, feetespecially. 

These mountains, these continual groups of slouching, slouch-hatted"Americans, " these little weathered log cabins, falling streams, andpine trees reminded one of some tale of Bret Harte, and one found one'sself expecting the sudden appearance of Broncho Billy or Jack Hamlinmounted upon a fiery mustang. But we cleared the top of the pass withoutmeeting either, and started on our last long downhill to Andrievitza. Cheered by the rapidity of our motion the two ruffians on the boxstarted a howling Podgoritzian kind of melody, exceedingly discordant. The driver, careless that one of our springs was but wired tree, andthat wheels in Montenegro are easily decomposed, flogged his horsesunmercifully, rattling along the extreme edge of one hundred footprecipices. We stopped at a café for the driver to get coffee; rattledon again, stopped to inquire the price of hay; more rattle; stopped forthe driver to say, "How de doo" to a pal; more rattle; stopped to ask aman if his dog has had puppies yet. .. . But we protested. 

Andrievitza was the prettiest village we had yet seen in Montenegro, and was full of more "Americans. " In the street a small boy urged us togo to "Radoikovitches, " but we went to the hotel. The hotel was full, because a Pasha from Scutari had arrived with his three wives, and alltheir families. So we permitted the little yellow-haired urchin to leadus to "Radoikovitches. " A woman received us, without gusto, till shelearned that Jo was Jan's wife, when she cheered up. A charming oldofficer stood rakia all round in our honour. The mayor came in to greetus, and we felt that at last Pod had been pushed behind for ever. 

The mayor was a pleasant fellow, speaking French, and he confided in usthat he was suffering from a "maladie d'estomac. " When we thought we hadsympathized enough, we asked him how far it was, and could we havehorses to go to Petch. He answered that it was two days, or rather oneand a half, and that the horses would await us at twelve on thefollowing day. We went to bed early to make up for last night, but Jan, having felt rather tickly all day, hunted the corners of his shirt andfound--dare we mention it--a louse, souvenir de Liéva Riéka. 

As we were breakfasting next day our driver, who had been mostunpleasant the whole time, sidled up and asked Jan to sign a paper. While Jan was doing so the driver burst into a volley of explanations. We thought that he was asking for a tip, but made out that he had lost(or gambled) the ten kronen which his employer had given to him forexpenses. We had intended to give him no tip, for on the yesterday hehad refused to carry our bags, but this made us waver. We asked Mr. Rad, etc. , what we should do. 

"Sign his paper, " he answered gruffly, "and kick him out; he's only adirty Turk anyhow. "

The mayor sent our horses round early; but we stuck to our decision tostart in the afternoon, and ordered lunch at twelve. There was a hugecrowd gathered in front of the inn, and we saw that the Pasha and hisharem were off. One wife wore a blue furniture cover over her, one agreen, and one a brown, so that he might know them apart from theoutside, for they all had heavy black veils before their faces. ThePasha himself seemed rather a decent fellow, and had much of the air ofa curate conducting a school feast. Four children were thrust into twobaskets which were slung on each side of one small horse, and variousfurniture, including a small bath (or large basin), was strapped on toothers, and the Pasha followed by his wives set off walking, the Pashaoccasionally throwing a graceful remark behind him. 

The mayor lunched with us, and for a man who has, as he says, anæmia ofthe stomach, chronic dysentery, and inflammation of the intestines, heate most freely, and if such is his daily habit, he deserved all he hadgot. 

Our guide was the most picturesque we have yet had. He was an Albanianwith a shaven poll save for a tuft by which the angels will one day lifthim to heaven, small white cap like a saucer, over which was wound atwisted dirty white scarf, short white coat heavily embroidered withblack braid, tight trousers, also heavily embroidered, but the waistbandonly pulled up to where the buttock begins to slide away--we wonderedcontinuously why they never fell off--and the long space between coatand trousers filled with tightly wound red and orange belt. He calledhimself Ramases, or some such name. Our saddles were pretty good, thestirrups like shovels, the horses the best (barring at the Front) we hadhad since Prepolji. 

We rode over a creaky bridge, Jan's horse refusing, so he went throughthe river, and out into the new road which is being made to Ipek. Menand women, almost all in Albanian costumes, were scraping, digging, drilling and blasting; some of the women wore a costume we had not yetseen, very short cotton skirt above the knees, and long, embroideredleggings. We passed this high-road "in posse" and, the little horsesstepping along, presently caught up a trail of donkeys, the proprietorof which, a friend of Ramases, had a face like a post-impressionistsculpture. 

We passed the donkeys and came to the usual sort of café, rough log hut, fire on floor--but one of the women therein gave Jo her onlyapple--decidedly we were away from Pod. 

On again along river valleys. Jan's saddle had a knob in the seat thatbegan to insinuate. On every hill were cut maize patches, the redstubble in the sunset looking like fields of blood. 

In the dusk we came to Velika, a wooden witchlike village, where we wereto stay the night, and where, as we had expected, the Pasha, ten minutesahead of us, had commandeered all the accommodation. The captain, however, was very good, and gave us a policeman to find lodgings for us. By this time it was dark. He led us into a pitch black lane where themud came over our boots, then we clambered up a loose earth cliff andstood looking into a room whose only light was from a small fire, asusual on the floor. Over the fire was a large pot, and a meagre-facedwoman was stirring the brew. Behind her a small baby in a red and whitestriped blanket was pushed up to its armpits through a hole on fourlegs, where it hung. In a dark corner a small boy was worrying a blackcat. 

"Can you give these English a bed?" demanded the policeman. 

The woman shook her head sadly. "Mozhe, " she said, which means "It ispossible. "

After supper, Bovril and cheese omelette, we went out to seek the café. We trudged back through the mud and stumbled into a house full oflattice work, like a Chinese store. Startled we tried another. This timewe came into a stable, but there was a ladder leading upwards, and atthe top a lighted room, so we decided to explore. We climbed up and cameinto a large loft in which six long legged, heavily bearded Albanianswere squatting about a fire; a gipsy woman with wild tousled hair andhanging breasts was in the corner of the hearth, and was telling somelong monotonous tale. An Albanian, who spoke Serb, told us to come inand have coffee. It was like the illustration of some tale from theArabian Nights. After a while we climbed out again into the night, andwent home. Ramases hung about shyly, and the woman explained that he hadnowhere to sleep; so we arranged that she should house him also. 

Even as we poked our noses out of the door there was a promise of a fineday. Below us we could see the Pasha up and superintending the packingof his family and furniture. We celebrated by opening our last tin ofjam, which we had carried carefully all the way, waiting for anoccasion. We left the remains of the jam for the small family, and as wewere mounting we saw their faces smeared and streaked with "FirstQuality Damson. " We started the climb almost at once. The early morningsmoke filtering through the slats made an outer cone, of faint blue, above the black roof of every hut and cottage; here and there weretraces of roadmaking, groups of Albanian workmen on stretches oflevelled earth which our trail crossed at irregular intervals. Presentlywe entered the clouds, and were wrapped about with a thin mist faintlysmelling of smoke. After a while we climbed above them, and looking downcould see the clouds mottling all the landscape, and through holeslittle patches of sunlit field or wood peering through like the eyes ofa Turkish woman through her yashmak. 

Our horses panted and sweated up the long and arduous slope for twomortal hours, up and ever up; but all things come to an end, and at lastwe reached the top. We sat down to rest our weary animals and, lo! by uspassed long strings of mules and ponies bearing the very benzine aboutwhich so much fuss had been made in Cettinje. Alas for our reputationsas miracle workers! Had this blessed stuff only come a week later weshould even have passed in Montenegro as first cousins of the king atleast; but this was a little too prompt. 

There was landscape enough here for any budding Turners, but we two hadstill eight hours to go and not money enough to loiter. On the higherpeaks of the mountains there was already a fresh powdering of snow; inthe valleys the clouds had almost cleared away, leaving a thin film ofmoisture which made shadows of pure ultramarine beneath the trees. Yourmodern commercial grinder cannot sell you this colour, it needs some ofthat pure jewel powder which old Swan kept in a bottle for use on hismasterpiece, but found never a subject noble enough. Some of that stuffprepared from the receipt of old Cennino Cennini which ends "this is awork, fine and delicate, suitable for the hands of young maidens, butbeware of old women. " Pure Lapis Lazuli. 

[Illustration: THE IPEK PASS IN WINTER. ]

But it became difficult even for us to admire landscape, for breakfasthad disappeared within us, and lunch seemed far away, so once morerecourse to the "compressed luncheon. " There are three stages in thetaste of the "Tabloid. " Stage one, when it smacks of glue; stage two, when it has a flavour of inferior beef tea, say 11. 30 a. M. ; stage three, when it resembles nothing but the gravy of the most delicious beefsteak. That is about 2. 30, and your lunch some hours in retard. Wehad reached stage three, and even Jo succumbed to the charms of the"Tab. "

Famished we came to a café. 

"Eggs?" we gasped to the host. 

"Nema" (haven't got any), he replied. 

"Milk?"

"Nema. "

"Cheese?" crescendo. 

"Nema. "

"Bread?" fortissimo. 

"Nema. "

Despairing we swallowed three more luncheon tablets each and whined fortea. Ramases, who seemed to get along on tea alone, promised us awell-stocked café in an hour and a half. 

The second café was purely Albanian. We climbed up some rickety stairsinto a room which had--strange to relate--a fireplace. About the roomwas a sleeping dais where three or four black and white ruffians werecouched. There was a little window with a deep seat into which wesqueezed and loudly demanded eggs, bread and cheese. An old woman allrags and tatters came in and squeezed up alongside, where she crouched, spinning a long wool thread and staring up into Jo's face. Several catswere lounging about the room, but one came close and began to squirm asthough she were "setting" a mouse. Suddenly she pounced, seized the oldwoman's food bag from her feet, swept it on to the floor, anddisappeared with it beneath the dais, where all the rest of the catsfollowed. The old woman, who had been plying distaff and spindle thewhile, let out a yell of fury and half disappeared beneath the platform. We all roared with laughter, while beneath us the cats spat and the oldwoman cursed, beating about with the handle of her distaff till she hadrescued her dinner. She backed out with the bag, sat down again andstarted spinning once more as though nothing had happened. 

Beyond this café the track became very stony and rough. We passed atypical couple. The man was carrying a light bag full of bottles, whilethe women had on her back a huge wooden chest, in which things rattledand bumped as she stumped along. 

Jo looked at her with pity. "That's heavy, " she said. 

The woman stared stupidly and answered nothing; but the man smiled andsaid--

"Yes, heavy. Bogami. "

We passed more caravans of that all too soon benzine. Cliffs began totower up on every side, and precipices to fall away beneath our feet toa greenish roaring torrent; great springs spouted from the rocks anddashed down upon the stones below in shredded foam: one was pink incolour. Here once a general and his lady were riding, and the lady'shorse slipped. The general grasped her but lost his own balance, andboth fell into the river and were killed. The track wound up and down, often very slippery underfoot, and the horses, shod with the usual flatplates of iron, were slithering and sliding on the edge of theprecipices. At last we got off and walked. It was an immense relief: oursaddles were intensely hard, stirrups unequal lengths, and with knotswhich rubbed unmercifully on the shins. We passed a man who wasevidently an Englishman, and he stared at us as we passed, but neitherstopped. The gorge grew deeper, the stream more rapid. The cliffstowered higher, black and grey in huge perpendicular stripes. We heardsounds of thunder or of blasting which reverberated in the canyon; itwas oppressive and gloomy, and one shuddered to think what it would belike if an earthquake occurred. The cliffs ceased abruptly in a hugegrass slope on which crowds of people were working on the new road; wecrossed the river over a wooden bridge. 

We came down into Ipek suddenly, past the old orange towered monastery, which lies, its outer walls half buried, keeping the landslides at bay. Ramases, who had suddenly put on another air, flung his leg over thesaddle--he had previously been sitting sideways--and twisted hismoustache skywards. Jo wished to canter on, but he sternly forbade her, flipping her horse on the nose and driving it back when she tried topass; for it would have damned his manly dignity for ever had a womanpreceded him. 

Our first view of Ipek was of a forest of minarets shooting up from theorchards, not a house was to be seen. Ramases tried to make us lodge ina vague looking building. We asked him if that were the best hotel. Heanswered nonchalantly, "Nesnam" (don't know); so we hunted forourselves, discovering in the main square a blue house labelled "HotelSkodar" in large letters. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI

IPEK, DECHANI AND A HAREM

We entered the courtyard of the inn. Tiny as it was all Ipek seemed tobe plucking poultry in it. An urbane old woman came forward, evidentlythe owner. She had short arms, and her hair grey at the roots wasstained with henna, which matched her eyes. A dog fancier once told usnever to buy a dog with light-coloured eyes if we wanted a trustfulloving nature, so we wondered if it applied to humans. 

She showed us a tiny dungeon-like room entirely filled up by two beds. We were not impressed; but she assured us that we should have a largebeautiful room the next day for the same price. So we engaged it andstrolled out into the evening. 

Buffaloes were sitting in couples round the big square. They chewed thecud with an air of incomparable wisdom so remote from the look ofreproachful misery that is generally worn by an ox. Goats came in fromthe hills with their hair clipped in layers, which gave them theappearance of ladies in five-decker skirts; and children were playing aqueer game. They jumped loosely round in circles with bent knees, makinga whooping-cough noise followed by a splutter. We saw it oftenafterwards, and decided that it must be the equivalent to our "Ring o'Roses. "

Work was over for the day, the sun set behind the hills which ringed usround, and we went to kill time in a café. 

While we were exchanging coffees with an "American, " who was showing usthe excellences of his wooden leg which he had made himself, abreathless man ran in. 

He had been searching the town for us. The governor had ordered him toput us up, as his had the notoriety of being a clean house. Having takena room already with the amiable old lady we feared to disappoint her, sowe decided not to move. The man piteously hoped that we were notoffended; and we explained at length. 

When we reached the hotel again our old hostess bustled up, more sugarythan ever. 

"We have just thought of a little rearrangement, " she said. 

"How so?"

"Well, do you understand, the inn is very full to-night, so we thoughtit best that you should both take the one bed and I and my daughterwill take the other. "

"Oh, " said we, "in that case we had better move altogether, we haveanoth--"

"Indeed, no no, " said the old lady, horrified. "Stay, stay. There sitdown. It is good, keep your beds. " She patted us and left us. 

We had an uninspired dinner. Greasy soup, tough boiled meat which hadproduced the soup, minced boiled meat in pepper pods, and two pearswhich turned out to be bad. The company, composed of officers andnondescripts, pleased us no better than the dinner, so we decided to eatelsewhere on the morrow. 

The governor's secretary came in to arrange for an interview with hischief--yet another Petrovitch and brother to the governor of Scutari. Bythis time we had each imbibed a dozen Turkish coffees during the day, but we slept for all that from nine until nine in the morning. 

Marko Petrovitch, whom we saw early, was the best and last Petrovitch wemet in Montenegro. Like all the Petrovitches he wore national costume. He was handsome, shy, and kindly, said we must go to Dechani the mostfamous of Balkan monasteries, and promised us a cart for the journey. 

After leaving the governor we plunged into melodrama. 

Hearing a noise we discovered crowds of weeping women and children roundthe steps of a shop. A young man in French fireman's uniform seemed tobe very active, and an old trousered woman passively rolled down thesteps after receiving a box on the ears. 

We thought it was a policeman arresting an elderly thief; but Jo, seeingblood on the lady's face, told him he was a "bad man. " He lurched, staring at her stupidly. His companions, more firemen, came forwardgrinning sheepishly, and we recommended them to lead him away out ofmischief. But the next minute a balloon-trousered child rushed up to usand tugged at Jan's coat. 

"Quick, the devil man is doing more bad things. "

We ran down the road beyond the village and saw him in the distancedancing on an old Turk's bare feet with hobnailed boots, alternatingthis amusement with cuffs on the face. We sprinted along, and seeing aconvenient little river wriggling along by the roadside, Jan caught himby the neck and the seat of his trousers, swung him round, and pitchedhim in. The man sat for a moment, bewildered, in the water, and thenclimbed out uttering dreadful oaths; but as he came up Jan knocked himinto the water again. 

Men in firemen's uniforms appeared from all sides, shouting--

"What are you doing? You mustn't. Who are you?"

"We know the governor, " said Jo. The men were making gestures ofdeference when the reprobate rushed from the river, aiming a whirlingblow at Jan which missed. 

The men hurled themselves on him, but he grabbed Jan's coat to which heclung, howling in unexpected English--

"Shake 'ands wi' y' ennemi. " Suddenly everybody spoke English, and wewondered into what sort of a fairy tale had we fallen. 

It was lunch time so we did not stay for explanations, but hurried backto the town with the weeping old Turk, gave him our small change, whichseemed to cure the pains in his feet, and hunted for the other hotel. 

It was tucked away in a romantic back street. The bar room was tiny, butit was very pleasant to sit round little tables under shady trees in thecourtyard. 

"What have you for lunch?" we asked a solid-looking waiter boy. 

"Nema Ruchak, bogami. " We have no lunch. We looked at all the otherpeople absorbing meat and soup. 

"Give us what you have. "

"We have nothing, bogami. "

"Have you soup?"

"Yes, bogami. "

"And cheese?"

"Ima, ima, bogami. "

"That will do for us. "

He thereupon brought macaroni soup, boiled meat, roast meat, friedpotatoes, cheese, grapes, and coffee. 

We never found out why in Montenegro they should make it a point ofhonour to say they have nothing. It resembles the Chinese habit ofalluding to a "loathsome" wife and a "disgusting" daughter. 

After lunch we visited our own hotel and found mine hostess waiting forus with her short arms akimbo. She wanted the "beautiful large bedroom"to which we had moved in the morning, finding it the same size as theone below, but rather lighter. Its former occupant had arrived, and wewere to go back to the dungeon. 

"That is not good, " said Jo, and we flatly refused to go downstairs. 

"If we leave this room we go altogether. "

She again patted us and begged us to consider the matter closed. Wecould stick to the room. 

Certainly that dog fancier was right. 

There was a very old monastery which we had passed as we rode intoIpek. 

Although we are more interested in the people of the present than inruins of the past, these old Serbian monuments leave so strange a memoryof a civilization suddenly cut off at its zenith that they have anemotional appeal far apart from that of archæology. These little oasesof culture preserved amongst a wilderness of Turk tempt the travellerwith a romance which is now vanishing from Roman and Greek ruins. 

The Ipek monastery is a beautiful old place with the walls half buriedon one side. The old church, orange outside, is very dark within, butcontains many beautiful paintings. Surely here is the home of PostImpressionism and of Futurism. The decorations of the bases of thepillars are quite futuristic even orpeistic. 

The pictures are Byzantine. But the Turks have picked out the eyes, asthey always do. One enormous painting of a head which filled asemicircle over a door is particularly fine. Most halos are round, butthe painter had deemed the ears and beard worthy of extra bulges in thissaint's halo, which added to the decorative effect. 

Beautiful apple trees were dotted about the big garden through which thewriggly river ran. Ducks, geese and turkeys wandered around, so fat thatthey were indifferent to the meal that was being served out to them. Aboy woke up the mother of a family of young turkeys and pushed hertowards the dinner with his foot. She hurried there involuntarily andsat down for a nap with her back to the plate, the picture of outrageddignity. 

We got into conversation with a priest, who insisted we should call uponthe archbishop. The Metropolitan was a cheery soul, wearing aMontenegrin pork-pie hat very much on one side, and black ridingbreeches which showed as his long robes fluttered during his manygesticulations. 

While with him we lost the impression that we were living in the unrealtimes of the Rose and the Ring. He was intensely civilized, spoke Frenchexcellently, and had many a good story of his life in Constantinople andother places. For the English he had great affection. The lastEnglishman in Ipek, a king's messenger, had flown to the monastery toescape from the Hotel Europe and its bugs. The next morning he would notget up. The archbishop went to his room to remonstrate. 

"No, no, " said he; "I spent two nights under a ceiling which rained bugsupon me, and I know a good bed when I've got it. "

Coffee and cigarettes came in, of the best, and the rakia was a thingapart from the acrid stuff we were accustomed to. 

He admitted its superiority. The plums came from his own estate, andwere distilled by the monks. The great difficulty was to prevent himfrom giving us too much. 

We talked of the war, and he related many atrocities, winding up with"Of course, England must win; but what will become of us in themeanwhile?"

That evening we had a visitor. A very large Montenegrin in Frenchfireman's uniform knocked at the door. He said his name was NikolaPavlovitch. He had been sent by the governor to apologise for the"trouble" Jan had had that morning with the drunken soldier. 

"'E in jail now, 'e verry sorry and say if you forgive 'im, mister, 'enever touch rakia, never no more. 'E good chap reely. Got too much rakiathis mornin', 'E think about Turks an' get kinder mad some'ow. 'E don'tknow what 'e done; first thing 'e knows 'e finds 'imself in river. "

Nikola Pavlovitch was, though not an officer, the commandant of acontingent of miners from America. The governor had told him also tooffer himself as cicerone for the morrow, the cart having been orderedfor our trip to Dechani. 

We didn't like cicerones and demurred. 

"I kin talk for you, " he said. But we owned to speaking Serb. 

"I know all de country, kin tell you things: bin 'ere twenty yearsago. "

We saw he wanted to come, and noticed that he had a very likable face, strong features, straight kindly eyes. We realized that he would be avery pleasant companion and arranged to meet at the stable the next day. 

And so, at last, we drove in one of the queer little Serb carts we hadavoided so anxiously. A few planks nailed together and bound around withan insecure rail, four wheels slipped on to the axles with no pins tohold them, a Turkish driver dangling his legs--such was our chariot. Some hay was produced to improvise a seat; we bought some apples ontick, as the vendor said he had no change for our one shilling note, andoff we drove. 

Nikola Pavlovitch started yarning almost at once, and we never had adull moment. He was a comitaj once, in the old days when Turkey ownedMacedonia and the Sanjak. He said that nearly all comitaj were men ofeducation and intelligence. When Turkish rule became oppressive, whentoo many Christian girls were stolen and vanished for ever into harems, the comitaj appeared, farms were raided, minute but fierce battles werefought; but in spite of this continual supervision, occasional andmysterious murders were needed to keep down the excesses of the Turk. 

Pavlovitch waved a hand towards the sullen mountains of Albania, whichwere on our right. 

"Dose Swabs don' tink o' nuttin' but killin'. Jess ornary slaughter, Mister Jim. Now dat Jakovitza [a town to the south] dat don't meannuttin but 'blood' in their talk, 'lots o' blood' dat's what it means. Sure. Dese peoples don' respect nuttin but killin'; an' when you've donein 'bout fifty other fellers you'r reckoned a almighty tough. If youwanted to voyage dere, f'r instance, you'd 'ave ter get a promise o'peace, a 'Besa' they calls it, from one of dese tough fellers, and hemakes 'imself responsible to end any feller wat disturbs you; 'e canpost a babby along o' you and so long as the kiddie's wid yer nobody'lltouch you. Dats so, Mister Jim, you bleeve me. But all de same, dey'vefixed it up so's dis killing business ain't perlite wen deres womenabout, so every feller taks 'is wife along 'o 'im so's not to be endedright away. "

Every house by the roadside was a fortress, loopholes only in the groundfloor, windows peering from beneath the eaves and turrets with gunslitsat the second story; here and there were old Turkish blockhouses, solidand square, showing how the conquerors had feared the conquered. 

"One o' dese tough fellers 'e kill more'n hundred fellers. Great chief'e is. Wen 'e was sixteen 'is fader get condemned ter prison way inMitrovitza. Dis young tough 'e walk inter court nex' day, in 'e kill dejudge and two of de officers and 'scape inter de mountains. "

Nick himself when he was a comitaj had twice been caught by the Turks. Once he was shot in thirteen places at once, but was found by someChristian women and eventually recovered; the second time the Turks beathim almost to death with fencing staves, and though they thought himdying put him on an ox cart and sent him to the interior of Turkey. 

"I was ravin' mad dat journey, " he said. "I don' want ter go ter 'ell ifit's like dat. "

They put him in hospital and treated him kindly; but once better theythrew him into a Turkish gaol. He described how the prison was dark asnight, because the poorer prisoners blocked up the windows, stretchingtheir arms through for doles from the passers-by. 

"We was all eaten wi' lice, " he went on, "an' if de folks 'adn't sent memoney an' food I'd a starved to def, sure. 'N den dey bribes de governor'n a soldier, 'n dey lets me 'scape. "

He lay a cripple in Montenegro six months, but in the summer crawleddown to the Bocche de Cattaro and on the sweltering shores of theAdriatic built himself a primitive sweat bath. In a few weeks he wasbetter, and in a few months cured. He then went to the mines in America, for he dared not return to Macedonia. He saved £800 and returned withit to his sister's in Serbia, but was so oppressed by the misery abouthim that he gave away all his money and went back. 

"Dere's lots a mineral in dese mountains, you feller. I show you onelump feller got a' Ipek, an' I guess it's silver, sure. Wen de war overyou come back an' we'll go over dem places tergedder. Dere's coal too. Lots. "

He told us that the wretched skeleton who was driving us had power inTurkish days to commandeer the services of Christian labourers, and topay them nothing. 

We passed by placid fields containing cows, horses, donkeys. The countryseemed untouched by war. Those cows could never have drawn heavy cartsand lain exhausted and foodless after a heavy day's work. The horsesreminded one of the sleek mares owned by old ladies who lived in awe oftheir coachmen. 

For this all belonged to Dechani, and it was beyond the power of thestate to touch their riches; nor had they been molested even in the daysof Turkish rule. 

"You see, monastery 'e pay money to the toughest Albanians--Albanianthey give besa--and nobody never do no 'arm to the monasteries. Russiashe send much money, she send always her priest to Dechani and theTurks they keep sorter respectful. "

Our first sight of Dechani disappointed us a little, the proportionslacked the beauty of the Ipek church; but the big old door marked by thefire the Turks had built against it, decades before, cheered us up abit. 

A pleasant priest with a smooth face and ringlets two feet long greetedus and led us to the little Russian hospital which was fitted into theAbbey, warning us not to bang our heads against the heavy oak beams inthe corridors. 

The Russians welcomed us heartily, preparing the most wonderful tea, Australian butter, white bread made with flour brought from Russia. 

Pavlovitch enjoyed himself immensely. Food was thin in the barracks. Buthe was very worried about the priest's long ringlets. 

"I'd soon cure 'im, a month diggin' de trench!" he murmured. 

After tea we examined the church. The interior was one miraculous blue:pictures with blue backgrounds, apostles with blue draperies, blueskies, a wonderful lapis lazuli. 

Once the Moslems had overpowered the defenders of the church and had gotin, the eyes of some of the saints were picked through the plaster. Legend runs, however, that while they were desecrating the tomb of TzarStephan who founded the church, the tomb of the queen, which layalongside, exploded with a violent report and terror struck the Turks, who fled. 

They showed us the queen's tomb, split from top to bottom. The priestsnaturally claim a miracle; but Pavlovitch said, "I tink dey verryclever, dey done dat wi' gunpowder. "

The Tzar Stephan had wished to build the church of gold and preciousstones, but a soothsayer said--

"No, my lord, build it of plain stone, for your empire will be robbedfrom you, and if it be of gold greedy men will tear it to pieces, but ifit be of plain stone it will remain a monument for ever. "

So he built it of fine marble. The central pillars were forty feet high, and each cut from a single piece, with grotesque carved capitals. Thegreat screen was wonderfully carved and gilded. Wherever one looked wasdecoration, almost in excess. 

Ringlets invited us to tea with the Russian bishop who was in charge. Hewas a stout, sweet-mannered little man, who shook his head woefully overthe war. 

Somehow Pavlovitch discovered that he and the bishop were the same age, forty-eight. We contrasted Pavlovitch's spare athletic frame with thewell-fed shape of the bishop, and felt instinctively which was thebetter Christian. Coffee and slatka were brought in. This slatka isalways handed to callers in well-regulated Serbian households. It is jamaccompanied by many little spoons and glasses of water. Each guest dipsout a spoonful, licks the spoon, drinks the water, and places his spoonin the glass. There is also a curious custom with regard to the coffee. If a guest outstays his welcome, a second cup is brought in andceremoniously placed before him--but, of course, this hint depends uponhow it is done. 

"It is Friday, " remarked Pavlovitch, regretfully. "Odder days we gitsmighty good meal. " He was very anxious for us to stay the night so thatwe should fit in a first-class breakfast, but the morrow was the Ipekfair, and we could not miss that. 

Night was coming so we hurried off and drove away. The horses went quitefast, as we had made them a present of some barley. We had discoveredthat since the beginning of the war, when they had been requisitioned bythe Montenegrin Government, they had lived on nothing but hay, and theowner, who was driving them, said that they would soon die, and thatwhen they did he would not receive a penny and would be a ruined man. Headded pathetically--

"One does not like to see one's beasts die like that, for after all oneis fond of them. "

We arrived after dark, and ordered supper for three. The inn lady wasscandalized. 

"But that is a common soldier, " she said. "There are many fine folk inthe dining-room, arrived to-day. The General--"

So we dined upon the landing. 

The next day we got up very early, went down to the dining-room andfound it was full of sleeping forms; we had coffee in our room. 

We wandered round the market. It was still too early, people werearriving and spreading their wares, men were hanging bright carpets onthe white walls. Beggars were everywhere, exhibiting their gains infront of them. If one could understand they seemed to cry like this--

"Ere y'are, the old firm; put your generous money on the real thing. I'as more misery to the square inch than any other 'as to the squareyard. "

We found bargaining impossible, as they only spoke Albanian, and wecould only get as far as "Sar, " how much. 

Pavlovitch turned up later and was very helpful. We hurried him to asilver shop which was displaying a round silver boss. He beat them downfrom sixteen to ten dinars, after which we plunged into a side streetfilled with women squatted cross-legged behind a collection ofeverything that an industrious woman who owns sheep can confection. 

"I have nothing for thee, " said an old woman to Jo, who peered into herbasket--Pavlovitch translating. 

Jo withdrew a tiny pair of stockings--a marvel of knitting in manycoloured patterns. 

"What about these?" she said. 

"Hast thou children?"

"No; but how much?" said Jo. 

The price was four piastres. Jo gave four groschen and the old womanpeered anxiously at the money in her palm. 

"It is too much, " she said. 

Pavlovitch explained that somehow four groschen worked out to more thanfour piastres; but we left her to calculate what fractions of a centimeshe had gained. 

Our old innkeeper looked very truculent when we entered. 

"Are you going to lunch here?"

"No; we left word. "

"Then you can't stay here. "

[Illustration: IN THE BAZAAR OF IPEK. ]

[Illustration: STREET COFFEE SELLER IN IPEK. ]

We pointed out that her meals were bad and very dear. She retaliated bymaking a fearful noise, and invited us to go and sleep at the Europe;but we remembered the Archbishop's story and stood firm. 

"If you don't leave us in peace we will appeal to the Governor. "

"Do, do. Go to the Governor, " said the old lady, her little girl, awry-mouthed charwoman and a little boy whom Jo had noticed stealing ourcigarettes. The dog joined in and barked vociferously. 

We went to the Governor who was near by. "They don't understandinnkeeping here, and she is a drunken old slut, " he said, and sent forher husband. 

We went defiantly again to the Europe for lunch. 

Jo had been expressing her wish to Pavlovitch to visit a harem. He cameto tell us that it had been arranged, as the chief of the police was afriend of his, and he had asked a rich Moslem to let her visit hiswives. The Moslem had graciously assented, saying that he would do it asa great favour to the chief of the police, and that no "European" womanhad ever visited an Ipek harem. 

We went down the broad street with its brilliant houses, admiring thegaudy colours of the women's trousers. "What a pity, " we said, "thatsuch a word as _loud_ was invented in the English language. "

Outside a huge doorway were sitting the chief of police and the wealthyAlbanian. We were introduced with great ceremony, and the Moslem, losingno time, took Jo through the doorway into a courtyard. At the end wasanother door guarded by a responsible-looking Albanian. He stood aside, and she entered another court full of trees and a basket-work hut. Shepassed through the lower story, which was full of grain, and ascendedinto a beautiful room with a seat built all round it. 

It was entirely furnished with carpets. He waved his hand to the seat, called to his wives much as a sportsman summons his dogs, and left. 

They came in, three women, simply dressed in chemise and flowered cottonbloomers. Their voices were shaking with excitement, and they werefearfully upset because Jo got up to shake hands with them. 

They only spoke Albanian, and a few words of Serb. One had been verybeautiful, but her teeth were decayed, another was a healthy-lookingyoung woman, and the third was frankly hideous. 

They brought coffee, the chief wife presenting it with her hand acrossher chest--a polite way of saying--

"I am your slave. "

Jo spoke Serb, and they clearly said in Albanian--

"If only we could tell what you are saying. "

After which every one sat and beamed, and they kept calling forsomebody. 

A plump dark-eyed girl came in, the first wife's daughter. She spokeSerb, and interpreted for the wives. 

They wanted to know everything, but knew so little that they could graspnothing. 

Where had Jo come from? She tried London, Paris; no use, they had neverheard of them--two weeks on the sea--they didn't know what the sea was, nor ships nor boats. They had never left Ipek and only knew the littlecurly river. 

The girl said that "devoikas" did not learn to read and write. That wasfor the men. 

Jo finally explained that she had ridden on horseback from Plevlie. Thenthey gasped--

"How far you have travelled! What a wonderful life, and does yourhusband let you speak to other men?"

She asked them what they did. 

"Nothing. " "Sewing?" "A little, " they owned with elegant ease. 

The chief wife had recently lost one of her children, but did not seemto know of what it had died. 

"I should think a woman doctor would be useful here, " said Jo. 

They screamed with laughter. "How funny! Why, she would be _so_ thick!"they said, stretching their arms as wide as they could. 

They kept inventing pretexts for keeping her, but when she rose to gofor the third time they regretfully bade her farewell, the daughter tookboth her hands and imprinted a smacking kiss. 

Outside the healthy-looking wife emerged from the basket hut, where shewas evidently preparing some delicacy to bring up, and showed signs ofdeep disappointment. 

The responsible-looking man who let her out also expressed his regretsthat she had not stayed longer. In the great street doorway was seatedthe husband, but no Jan, no Pavlovitch, so Jo sat with him, somewhatembarrassed, eating bits of apple which he peeled for her. 

In the afternoon we went to bid farewell to the Archbishop and tookPavlovitch with us. The Archbishop gave Pavlovitch a poor welcome untilhe heard his name. 

"Are _you_ Nikola Pavlovitch, of whom I have heard so much from theGovernor? I thought you were only a common soldier. I have met you atlast. "

We felt we were really consorting with the great. 

Jo related her harem experiences, and he told of the attempts of theyoung Turks in Constantinople to abolish the veil, of how he hadassisted at small dinner parties where the ladies had discarded theirveils, and of the ferocity with which the priests and leaders had foughtand quashed the movement. 

One lady had ventured unveiled into the bazaar, and one of the lowest ofwomen had given her a blow on the face. On appealing to a policeman shehad received small comfort, as he told her she ought to be ashamed ofherself. 

As we went home we met women coming home from the fair with unsoldcarpets. They accosted us and wanted to know why we were writing them inthe morning so that they could tell their relatives all about it. 

When we reached our bedroom the old innkeeper came in. In dulcet tonesshe admired our purchases. We were rather stiff. 

Suddenly she fell upon Jo's neck saying, "You mustn't be angry with me, "and remained there explaining. 

When she left, Jo looked gravely at Jan, took a toothcomb, let down herhair, and worked hard for a while. 

Next day we went for a long walk. As we were returning a terrific stormburst over us. We had left our mackintoshes in the inn, and were soonwet through. We got back just at supper time, and after, as Jan had nochange of clothing, he decided to go to bed in his wet things, heapingblankets and rugs over himself in the hopes of being dry by the morrow. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XII

THE HIGHWAY OF MONTENEGRO--II

Jan awoke nearly dry, or in a sort of warm dampness, at 4. 30 a. M. Not asoul was about, and we packed by candle. There was a purple dawn, andthe towering cliffs behind the minarets glowed a deep cerise for atleast ten minutes ere the light reached the town. The streets were stilland deserted, but at last an old man with a coffee machine on his back, and a tin waistbelt full of pigeon-holes containing cups, took a seat ata corner. At six he was surrounded by groups of Albanian workmendrinking coffee, and he beckoned us to come and take coffee with him, but we were suspicious of the cleanliness of his crockery. Amiserable-looking woman in widow's weeds was loitering about the door ofthe post office, and with her was a tattered girl surrounded by trunks, suit-cases, and bandboxes, so we guessed they were there to be fellowpassengers. A waggon loaded with boxes halted before them, but the widowdeclined to let _her_ baggage go by it. 

At last the post waggon came. It was a small springless openwork cartwith a rounded hood on it, so that it could roll when it upset--whichwas the rule rather than the exception--luggage accommodation wasprovided only for the "soap and tooth-brush" type of traveller; but thewidow insisted upon packing in all her movables, and after that we foursqueezed into what room was left. The seat was low, one's chin and kneeswere in dangerous proximity, and a less ideal position for travellingsome thirty-five miles could not be imagined. The widow's portmanteau, all knobs and locks, was arranged to coincide with Jo's spine. Thetattered maid was loaded with five packages on her knees which she couldnot control, so we looked as cheerful as we could and said to ourselves, "Anyway it will do in the book. "

At the start Jan was rather grateful for the squash, for the air waschilly; soon the damp, exposed parts of his clothing cooled to freezingpoint, and it was lucky that they were not more extensive. 

As we rolled over the craters and crests of the--what had oncebeen--stone-paved streets, the driver halted, here to buy a large loafof bread, there to purchase smelly cheese, and finally to pick up agold-laced officer, whom we took to be the post-guard. The driver, whosat back to back with Jan, grumbled at him because he took up too muchroom. But Jan replied that it was his own fault for not making thecarriage bigger, and that his knees were not telescopic. We received thepost of Montenegro, for this was the only road out; it consisted ofthree letters and a circular, so we judged that Montenegrin censorshipwas pretty strict. 

The road was flat, the surrounding country covered with little scrubbyoak bushes, in and out of which ran innumerable black pigs who had longcross pieces bound to their necks to prevent them from pushing throughhedges into the few maize fields. As the miles passed Jan slowly beganto dry, his temperature went up and his temper became better. The widow, we discovered, was the relict of a Greek doctor who had died of typhusin Plevlie, and she was returning to her native land. 

Presently we came to a small inn, a hut like all others, and the drivercommanded us to get out. By this time we were accustomed to the sight ofnobles kissing market women relatives, and it did not surprise us to seethe officer embrace the rather dirty hostess of the inn and kiss all thechildren; but when he took his place behind the bar and began to servethe coffee!. .. It was a minute before we realized that he had not beenguarding the three letters and the circular, but merely was returninghome. 

At the Montenegrin frontier, which was some hours on, a soldier asked usfor a lift, as though he could not see that we were already bulging atall points with excess luggage; at the Serbian frontier Jan was askedfor his passport, and as they did not demand that of the widow, weconcluded that they imagined her to be Mrs. Gordon, and Jo and thetattered one, two handmaids. 

Immediately over the frontier the road began to be Serbian, but not asSerbian as it became later on, and we reached Rudnik--and lunch--in goodcondition. Another carriage similar to our own was here, containing aTurkish family. The father, a great stalwart Albanian, and the son abudding priest in cerise socks. The priest was carrying food to hiscarriage, and we discovered that a woman was within, stowed away at theback like the widow's luggage, and carefully protected by two curtains, so that no eye should behold her. Her sufferings between Rudnik andMitrovitza can be imagined when you have heard ours. 

From Rudnik we walked to ease our cramped limbs, and the road became sobad that the driver went across country to avoid it. Here is the receiptfor making a Serbian road. 

"The engineer in charge shall send two hundred bullock trains from Hereto There. He shall then find out along which path the greater numberhave travelled (_i. E. _ which has the deepest ruts), after which anAustrian surveyor shall map it and mark it, 'Road to There. ' Should theruts become so deep that the carts are sliding upon their bottoms ratherthan travelling upon their wheels, an overseer must be sent to throwstones at it. He and ten devils worse than himself shall heave rockstill they think they have hurt it enough, when they may return home, leaving the road ten times worse than before, for the boulders by nomeans are to fill the ruts, but only to render them more exciting. "

Oh, we walked. Indeed, we walked a good deal more than the driverthought complimentary, we got out at every uphill, and put steam on sothat we should not be caught on the downhills. By supreme efforts wemanaged to get in four hours' walking out of the torturous thirteen. Once--when we were a long way ahead--we were stopped by a gendarme. 

"Where are your passports?" demanded he. 

"In the post-waggon, " replied Jan. 

"Why did you leave your passports in the post-waggon?"

"Because they were in the pocket of my great-coat. "

"Why did you leave your great-coat in the post-waggon?"

"Because it is hot. "

"I shall have to arrest you, " quoth the gendarme. 

But his officer came from an adjoining building and told him not to makea fool of himself, and on we went, taking short cuts, following thetelegraph poles, which staggered across country like a file ofdrunkards. 

Eventually the carriage caught us up and the driver insisted that weshould get in. He added that he could not lose all day while we walked, and that he would never get to Mitrovitza; it seemed superfluous topoint out that we had gone quicker than he, but to avoid argument weclambered in. The driver, in a temper, slashed his horses, and off wewent, over ruts and stones full speed ahead. It was like being in asmall boat in a smart cross-choppy sea, with little torpedoes explodingbeneath the keel at three minute intervals; and this road was marked onthe map as a first-class road; the mind staggers at what the second andthird-class must be like. These countries are still barbarous at heart, but Europe cries out upon open atrocities, and so they have invented thepost-waggon. After all, pain is a thing one can add up, and the sumtotal of misery produced by the post, travelling daily, must in timeexceed that of the Spanish Inquisition. Thus do they gratify theirbrutal natures. 

We bounded along. The brakes did not work, the carriage banged againstthe horses' hocks, who, in turn, leapt forwards, and our four heads metin a resounding thump in the centre of the waggon; after which Joinsisted that the widow should turn her hatpins to the other side. Thewidow's luggage cast loose and hit us in cunning places when we were notlooking. The cart rocked and heaved, and we expected it to turn over. There were other waggons on the road--heavy, slow ox carts, exportingwool or importing benzine or ammunition, with wheels of any shape barround--some were even octagonal; and as they filed along they gave forthsounds reminiscent of Montenegrin song, a last wail from the hospitablelittle country whose borders we were leaving behind us. 

The driver promised us a better road further on; but the better roadnever came, and we hung on waiting for something to break and give usrelief. There were hints, it is true, unfinished hints: some day menwill be able to travel in comfort from Mitrovitza to Ipek, but the dayis not yet. It is strange how the human frame gets used to things, andwe grew to believe that our driver not only liked, but joyed in eachextra bang and jolt--collected them as it were--for certainly he neveravoided anything, though occasionally he wound at the brake, but thatwas only for show, because he knew that it did not work. 

We reached Mitrovitza at dark with bones unbroken, and rattled down aroad with vague white Turkish houses upon one side, and a muddy lookingstream reflecting dull lights on the other. One last lurid lunge, weleapt across a drain and broke a trace bar, but too late, we hadarrived. 

The Hotel Bristol was full--why are there so many hotels in Serbia namedBristol?--but we were received by a stupid-looking maid at the Kossovo, and were given a paper to sign, saying who we were. Then down to therestaurant, where we had a beefsteak which was a dream, and back to bed, which was a nightmare, for all night long we bounced and banged andbruised our journey over again, and awoke quite exhausted. 

The first impression of a town which is entered by moonlight is usuallydifficult to recover on the following morning, it is often like theglimpse of a pretty girl caught, say, in a theatre lobby, and the charmmay never be rewoven. So it was with Mitrovitza, which in daylightseemed just a dull, ordinary Turkish town. The Prefect was a bear, andsent us on a long unnecessary walk to the station, a mile and a half. Sitting on the road was the dirtiest beggar we had yet seen. As we cametowards her she chanted our praises, bowing before us and kissing thedust; but she aroused only feelings of disgust and getting nothing, sheturned to curses till we were out of sight. The chief imports at thestation seemed to be cannons and maize; the only exports, millstones, which looked like and seemed almost as palatable as Serbian bread. Wedid our business without trouble, and coming back the beggar praised usonce more till we had passed, then hurled even louder curses after us. 

We came to a tiny café in which were faint tinkling, musical sounds. 

Jan: "I wonder what that is?"

Jo: "It sounds queer: shall we explore?"

Jan: "I dunno, perhaps they wouldn't like us. "

Jo: "Come along. Let's see anyhow. "

And up we went. In a large room was a deep window seat, and in thewindow the queerest little Turkish dwarf imaginable. The little dwarfwas sitting cross-legged, and was playing a plectrum instrument. Hishead was huge, his back was like a bow, and his plectrum arm bent intoan S curve, which curled round his instrument as though it had been bentto fit. He was a born artist, and rapped out little airs and trillswhich made the heart dance. There were three soldiers at tables, andpresently one sprang out on to the floor and began to posture and movehis feet, a woman joined him; the little man's music grew wild and morerapid; another man sprang in, another woman joined, and soon all fourwere stamping and jigging till the floor rocked beneath them. We gavethe little man a franc for his efforts, and his broad face nearly splitin his endeavour to express a voiceless gratitude. 

We were no longer royalty, we were just dull, ordinary everyday folk, and at the station had endless formalities to go through, examinationsof passes, etc. , during which time all intending passengers were lockedin the waiting-room. But at last we were allowed to take seats in thetrain, and off we went. 

We passed through the plain of Kossovo where old Serbian culture wasprostrated before the onrush of the Turk, and whence Serbia has drawnall its legends and heroes; possibly the most unromantic looking spot inall Europe, save only Waterloo. Here, far to the left, was Mahmud'stomb:--Mahmud the great victor, stabbed the day before the battle, anddying as he saw his armies victorious. History contains no keenerromance. Serge the hero, accompanied by two faithful servants, gallopedto the Turkish camp, and commanded an interview with the Moslemgeneral, who thought he was coming to be a traitor. In face of theDivan the hero flung himself from his horse, drew his sword, and stabbedMahmud where he sat, surrounded by his armies. Before the astoundedguards had recovered their surprise, Serge was again upon his greatcharger and was out of the camp, cutting down any who barred hispassage. Mahmud did not die immediately, and his doctors slew a cameland thrust him into the still quivering animal; when the dead beast wascooling, they slew another, and thus the Moslem was kept alive till theSerbian hosts had been overthrown. He and the Serbian Czar were buriedon the same field--one dead in victory, one in defeat. 

We trundled slowly over the great plain whose decision altered the fateof the world, for who knows what might have grown up under a greatByzantine culture? The farms were solidly built houses with greatwell-filled yards, surrounded by high and defensible walls. We came intostations where long shambling youths, dressed in badly made Europeanclothes, lounged and ogled the girls in "this style, 14/6" dresses. Signs of culture!

Why should the bowler hat, indiarubber collars, and bad teeth beindissolubly bound to "Education Bills" and "Factory Acts"? Why shouldthe Serbian peasant be forced to give up his beautiful costume forcelluloid cuffs, lose his artistic instincts in exchange for a made-uptie? It is the march of civilization, dear people, and must on noaccount be hindered. 

Coming back to Serbia from Montenegro was like slipping from a warm intoa cool bath. One is irresistibly reminded that the Lords of Serbiawithdrew to Montenegro, leaving the peasantry behind, for every peasantin the black mountains is a noble and carries a noble's dignity; whileKarageorge was a pig farmer. There is a warmth in Montenegro--save onlyPod. --which is not so evident in its larger brother; a welcome, which isnot so easily found in Serbia. The Montenegrin peasant is like a greatchild, looking at the varied world with thirteenth-century unspoiledeyes; centuries of Turkish oppression has dulled the wit of the Serb, and at the outbreak of the war Teutonic culture was completing theprocess. 

We passed beneath the shadow of Shar Dagh, the highest peak in thepeninsula, six thousand feet from the plain, springing straight up to apoint for all to admire, a mountain indeed. 

We reached Uskub at dusk, found a hotel, and went out to dine. Therestaurant was empty, but through a half-open door one could hear thesounds of music. The restaurant walls were--superfluously--decoratedwith paintings of food which almost took away one's appetite; but oneenormous panel of a dressed sucking pig riding in a Lohengrin-likechariot over a purple sea amused us. 

In the beer hall a tinkly mandoline orchestra was playing, and a womanwithout a voice sang a popular song--one thought of the women on theRieka River--a tired girl dressed in faded tights did a few easycontortions between the tables, and in a bored manner collected her meedof halfpence--we thought of the cheery idiot of Scutari. Was it worthit, we asked each other, this tinsel culture to which we had returned?And not bothering to answer the question went back to our hotel and tobed. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIII

USKUB

Uskub is a Smell on one side of which is built a prim little French townfinished off with conventionally placed poplars in true Latin style; andon the other side lies a disreputable, rambling Turkish villageculminating in a cone of rock upon which is the old fortress called theGrad. 

The country about Uskub is a great cemetery, and on every hand riselittle rounded hills bristling with gravestones like almonds in atipsy-cake. Strange old streets there are in Uskub. One comes suddenlyupon half-buried mosques with grass growing from their dilapidateddomes, a refuge only for chickens; some deserted baths, and in the midstof all, its outer walls like a prison and with prison windows, the oldcaravanserai. 

We crept to its gateway and through a crack saw visions of a romanticcourtyard. The gate was locked, and we asked a little shoemaker--

"Who has the key?"

"It is now a leather tannery, " he answered, and directed us to ashoemaker in another street. This was full of shoemakers, and we chasedthe key from shop to shop. It was like "Hunt the slipper. " At last weran it to earth in the second waistcoat of a negligent individual in afez. 

How happy the merchant of old must have felt when he entered thecourtyard after a long journey! The court was big and square, with afountain in the centre, the pillars were blue, and the arches red. Tiersupon tiers of little rooms were built around; the expensive ones hadwindows and the cheap ones none, and the door of each was marked by thesmoke of a thousand fires which had been lit within. Underneath werecubby holes for the merchants' goods, and behind it all was a great darkstable for the animals. Once shut up in the caravanserai one was safefrom robbers, revolutions, and the outside world. Lying in the doorway, as if cast there by some gigantic ogre in a fit of temper, were twoimmense marble vases, and two queer carved stone figures. Who made thesefigures? Mystery--for Turkey does not carve. The old caravanserai nolonger gives protection to the harassed traveller, it only cures hisboots, for it has fallen from sanctuary to shoemakers, and the leatherworkers of Uskub cure their hides therein. Hence, despite its beauty, wedid not loiter long, for we have ever held a bad smell more powerfulthan a beautiful view. 

Why don't towns look tragic when their bricks reek of tragedy? Why isindustrial misery the only form in which the cry of the oppressed isallowed to take visible shape and to make the reputation of Realistartists? In Uskub is concentrated the whole problem of the Balkans andof Macedonia. Her brightly painted streets are filled with Serb, Bulgar, and Turk, each disliking the rule of the other, the Bulgar hating theSerb only worse than the Turk because the Serb is master. To theinquiring mind it is problematic how much of this hate is national, andhow much political. Deprive these peasant populations of their jealous, land-grabbing propagandist rulers, and what rancour would remain betweenthem? Intensive civilization, such as has been applied to thesestates--civilization which has swept one class to the twentieth century, while it leaves the others in its primitive simplicity--seems always toproduce the worst results. Nations can only crawl to knowledge and tothe possessions of riches, for politics to the simple are like "drinks"to the savage and equally deadly in effect. 

[Illustration: A WINE MARKET IN USKUB. ]

Can the problem ever be resolved? Can Serbia with half her manhood wipedout stand against her jealous neighbours? The creation of a lot ofsmall states on republican principles seems a far-fetched idea, and yetit seems the best, especially if the menace of Turkey were removed, forthere is little doubt that Turkey, rearmed by the German, might make onemore effort to regain her lost territory under conditions vastlydifferent from those which ruled in the Balkan conflict. Macedonia, Albania, and what is now Turkey in Europe, each made self-governingunder the shield of the Alliance--why not?--and Serbia as compensationallowed to expand towards the north into territories which are whollySerb in nationality and in feeling. 

We went through the pot market, whose orange earthenware was glowing inthe sun, and came upon an old house with such a wonderful ultramarinecourtyard that we went in to look. Over the door was written OLDSERB CAFÉ JANSIE HAN. After sketching there we entered the inn forcoffee, and sat at tables made of thick blocks of marble smoothed onlyat the top. The innkeeper said it was built in the days of the CzarDuchan. If this were true, one would say that never had the interiorbeen whitewashed since then. But there was an air of cosiness about it, and we visited it several times after. Near by was a little church witha wonderful carved screen and a picture of Elijah going to heaven in achariot drawn by a pink horse, with the charioteer bumping along on aseparate cloud, which served as the box. We watched the sun set from oneof the tipsy-cake hills, sitting on a gravestone with an old Turkishshepherd, who seemed to derive great comfort from our company. 

The mountains around reflected the rosy lights of the sun in great flatmasses. 

The muezzin sounded from the many minarets, and twilight was on us. Uskub, romantic, dirty, unhealthy Uskub, was soon shrouded in mist; avision of unusual beauty. 

One thought of the awful winter it had passed through, when dead anddying had lain about the streets. Typhus, relapsing fever, and typhoidhad gripped the town. Lady Paget's staff, while grappling with thetrouble, had paid a heavy toll, as their hospital lay deep on theunhealthy part of the city. For a time the citadel was in the hands ofan English unit. Before they were there it was a Serbian hospital, andthe staff threw all the dirty, stained dressings over the cliff, downwhich they rolled to the road. The peasants used to collect thesepestiferous morsels and made them into padded quilts. Little wonder thatillness spread! In the summer Lady Paget's hospital withdrew to somegreat barracks on the hill. The paths were made of Turkish tombstones, which were always used in Uskub for road metal. 

The hospital staff was saddened by the recent death of Mr. Chichester, who had, like ourselves, just returned from a tour in the westernmountains, where he caught paratyphoid and only lived a few days. 

One of the doctors had been in Albania, on an inoculating expedition. AtDurazzo he had been received by Essad Pacha, who was delighted to havehis piano played, and to watch the hammers working inside. Like Helen'sbabies, "he wanted to see the wheels go wound. " The piano and piles ofmusic must have been a memento of the Prince and Princess of Wied and oftheir unhappy attempts at being Mpret and Mpretess--or is it Mpretitza, or Mpretina? The music was still marked with her name, and was certainlynot a present to Essad. 

The stamp of the English was on Uskub. Prices were high. One Turkoffered us a rubbishy silver thing for fifteen dinars; and Jan laughed, saying that one could see the English had been there. Without blushingthe man pointed to a twin article, saying he would let that go for fivedinars. 

What caused us to feel that we had wandered enough? Was it the awfulcinematograph show which led us through an hour and a half of melodramawithout our grasping the plot, or was it that the large copper tray webought filled us with a sense of responsibility?

At this wavering moment Lady Paget held a meeting of her staff. Welunched there, and part of the truth leaked out after the meeting. 

The Bulgars really were coming in against us, and in a day or two wewere to see things. 

That decided the matter. We went to the prefect's office for our pass. Firstly, we were ushered into a room occupied by a man in khaki, whoseaccent betrayed that he hailed from the States. He was "somethingsanitary, " and belonged to the American commission, so we tried again. This time the porter took us up to a landing, said a few words into adoorway, and left us standing. As he was wandering in our vicinity, Jotried one of her two talismans: it is the word "PREPOSTEROUS"ejaculated explosively, and is safely calculated to stagger a foreignsoul. The other is a well-known dodge. If a person bothers you, look athis boots with a pained expression. He will soon take himself off--bootsand all. 

The talisman worked, the pass was quickly managed, and we had but tospend our time among the shops again. We resisted the seductions of anold man with fifty knives in his belt, who reminded Jo of a horriblenightmare of her infancy. 

In her dream a grandfather with a basket had come peddling. Suddenly hiscoat, blowing aside, revealed not a body, but a busy sewing-machine inexcellent working order. In her agitation, Jo fell out of bed. 

We sat consuming beer outside a café decked with pink flowered bushes ingreen boxes. One of the antique dames who cook sausages in the shadow ofthe cafés brought us a plate each--funny little hard things--and webought cakes and nougat from perambulating Peter Piemen. 

The station platform was like the last scene of a pantomime. Every onewe had met on our journeys rushed up and shook us by the hand. 

First a Belgian doctor, from Dr. Lilias Hamilton's unit in Podgoritza. He said Mrs. G. Was also in the town, and that the others were allcoming shortly. Then we met a young staff officer from Uzhitze, who wasnoted for his bravery. The train came in and we stumbled up to it in thedark. There was a crowd of women about the steps in difficulty withheavy bags. Jan ran forward to help one. She turned round. It was asister from Dechani. The rest turned round. It was the whole Russianmission from Dechani. 

We proceeded along the corridor, and ran into two men. We mutually beganto apologize. 

"Hello, " we said, "how did you get here?" They were two Americans we hadmet in Salonika. 

We got our seats and went out of the train by the other door. As wepassed the compartment we saw a familiar face. It was the little Frenchcourier. 

"Quel pays, " he said, bounding up. "Et les Bulgars, quoi?"

"Good Lord, " said Jan. "Let's go out and get some fresh air. "

The only people lacking to complete the scene were the Sirdar and Dr. Clemow. 

A doctor who had just arrived from Salonika asked us to look after fourEnglish orderlies who, new to the country, were travelling to the RedCross mission at Vrntze. With them were two trim, short-skirted, heavybooted, Belgian nurses, who were going to a Serbian field hospital. 

The train crawled. At times it was necessary to hold one's breath to seeif we were moving at all. It was always possible that the Bulgars hadblown up a bridge or so. One could imagine an anxious driver, his eyesfixed on the line in front, looking for Bulgarian comitaj. 

The travellers were restless. Our little French courier stood in thecorridor looking fiercely at the black night; his back view eloquentlyexpressive of his opinion of the Balkans. 

Later on we all slept. A frightful braying sound awoke us. 

No, not Bulgars--only the band. Same band, same station, same hour, sameawful incompetence. 

So the princess had nothing to do with it!

Trainloads bristling with ragged soldiers passed us--open truck-loads ofthem, carriage tops covered with sleeping men, some were clinging to thesteps and to the buffers. 

Nish station had lost its sleepy air. Every one was energetically doingeverything all wrong. The four orderlies and the two Belgian sisterswere minus their passports. Some one had taken them away. These were runto earth in the station-master's office, and as the party had no ideawhere to go, we suggested they should come with us to the rest-house. 

The first person we met there was Dr. Clemow. 

"Have you got the Sirdar with you?" we asked. 

He answered that he had brought Paul, the young Montenegrin interpreter, with him. The English units in Montenegro had been recalled, and he hadcome to Nish to try to rescind the order for his unit. 

The town was at its gayest. The cloud had not yet dimmed the market. Peasants poured in, knowing nothing of the Bulgars, little thinking thatthey would be flying, starving, dying, in a few weeks' time. A Chinesevendor of paper gauds had come into the town, and all the pretty girlswere wearing his absurdities pinned on to their head kerchiefs. One girlwas so fine and bejewelled that we photographed her, to the delight ofher lover, who stood aside to let us have a good view. 

A man was selling honey in the comb accompanied by his bees, which musthave followed him for miles. They testified their displeasure at hisselling their honey by stinging him and most of the buyers. 

No one seemed to know when the train was leaving. Station-master, porters, all had a different tale. At last we decided to risk seveno'clock in the evening, and the four orderlies and ourselves, coppertray and all, bade farewell to the Belgian sisters, who had cut offtheir hair, and wandered across to the station. The train arrived twohours late and stood, ready to go out, guarded by tatterdemalions withguns. 

"You can't get in yet, " said one of them barring our way. 

"Why?"

"Ne snam. "

The freebooting instinct arose in us; we awaited our opportunity, dodgedbetween two soldiers, and settled ourselves comfortably. Severalofficials looked in and said nothing; another came and forbade us tostay there, and passed on. An old woman came with a broom and cleanedup. We sat on our feet to get them out of the way, somebody squirtedwhite disinfectant on the floor, and we were left in peace. 

The train started at eleven, moved as far as a siding and stayed tillfour. We found the four Red Cross men had only nine shillings betweenthem. Three had stood all the way from Salonika, as during anunfortunate moment of interest in the view their seats had beenappropriated by a fat Serbian officer, his wife and daughter. Thefourth, a porter from Folkestone, had settled down on the floor, saying"he wasn't going to concarn himself with no voos. "

They had new uniforms, yellow mackintoshes, white kit bags, andbeautiful cooking apparatus, which took to pieces and served a thousandpurposes. 

In the chilly morning we got out at Stalatch, just too late for theVrntze train. Luckily the station café was open. 

The four Englishmen ordered beefsteak, but were given long leantasteless sausages. They asked for tea and were given black Turkishcoffee in tiny cups half full of grounds. We asked about the trains, andwere told we should catch the one next day. We argued, and extracted thepromise of a luggage train, which would soon pass. 

Why is it that in Serbia they always, on principle, say, "You can't, "after which under pressure they own, "Somehow you can"? In Montenegrothey say, "Certainly you can, " after which they occasionally find that"Somehow you can't. "

At last the luggage train came. We sat on the step dangling our legs andpeering down at the country below us. 

We were again held up at Krusevatz and bearded the officials. Theypromised to put on a special carriage for us when the next luggage-trainshould come in, some time that evening. 

[Illustration: BIG GUN PASSING THROUGH KRUSEVATZ. ]

Nothing for it but to lunch and to kill time. We watched the mountainbatteries pass on their way to the Bulgarian frontier. One or two bigcannon trailed by, drawn by oxen. Many horses looked wretched andhalf-starved. 

The Englishmen built a camp fire by the rail-road. Soon tea was brewing;we drank, and chewed walnuts, stared at by crowds of patient Serbiansoldiers. 

We travelled with the treasurer of the district, a charming man whorevelled in stories of a mischievous boyhood spent in a Jesuitestablishment. The fathers had stuck to him nobly until he had mixed redpaint with the holy water, and one of the fathers, while administeringthe service, had suddenly beheld his whole congregation marked on theforehead with damnatory crosses like criminals of old time. That endedhis school days. He introduced us to an officer, whose business it wasto search for spies, a restless man who was always feeling under theseats with his feet. Perhaps it was only cramp! The four Englishmen, cheered at the thought that their long journey was nearing its end, burst into song. The Serbs stood round listening to the melodies thatwere so different to their own plaintive wailings, and presently askedus to translate. We don't know if the subtleties of "Didn't want to doit, " or "The little grey home in the west, " were very clear in thetranslations, as they seemed puzzled. 

Arrived at Vrntze, we found no carriages to meet us. The station-masterat Krusevatz had promised to telephone, but as usual had not done it. Wehad to break the news to our Englishmen, who, their songs over, hadnaturally fallen into tired depression, and had to tell them that athree-kilometre walk was before us, and one man had better stay to lookafter the baggage. Carriages were telephoned for, but they would be longin coming. 

They were! We arrived at the village--no carriages. We agitated. The spysearcher came out of the café--to which he and the "Bad Boy's Diary" manhad driven--and made people run about. They said the carriages hadalready gone. We denied it, so they woke up the coachman. 

We took the three men to the hospital and went back to sit in the caféwith our new friends and met many old ones. The local chemist cheeredand promised us a present of mackintosh cotton to celebrate our return. We had spent Easter morning in his shop eating purple eggs and drinkingtea enlivened with brandy, while the choir came in and chanted beautifulEaster songs to us. 

An hour rolled by, the café closed, our friends disappeared. We went tomeet the carriages from the station; at last they arrived, with Mr. Owenhalf asleep amidst the kitbags. 

It was far into the night when we arrived at our hospital burdened withour two bags and the copper tray. 

The night nurse, a kitten, and a round woolly puppy welcomed us. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIV

MAINLY RETROSPECTIVE

Hospital work again. How strange we felt. A sad-faced little Serbianlady, widowed through typhus, was interpreting for the out-patientswhile Jo was away; but she was alone in the world and did not want togo--so Jo, homesick for her beloved out-patients, had to make the bestof it and do other work. The Serbian youth who had been put on the staffas secretary, was dangerously ill with typhoid fever, which he hadpicked up at Kragujevatz. The typhus barrack was a children's hospital, containing little waifs chosen from the out-patients, and a few women. 

In the early days when we had first arrived at Vrntze there were severaloverfilled Serbian and one Greek hospital. They were only cafés andlarge villas, unsanitary, stuffy, and overworked. The windows were neveropen, and through the huge sheets of plate glass could be dimly seen inthe thick blue tobacco smoke a higgledy-piggledy crowd of beds. Oftentwo men lay in one bed covered with their dirty great coats, whiletyphus patients and wounded men slept together. One man lay unconsciousfor several days in the window, his feet in his dinner-plate. At last hedied, his feet still in the dinner. Mr. Berry took on a hydropathicestablishment which had been completed just before the first Balkan War. This was used as the central hospital, where the staff lodged, and themost serious surgical cases were nursed. In the basement anoperating-room was rigged up, there were bathrooms, disinfecting-rooms, a laundry, and an engine-house, where gimcrack German machinery in fitsand starts provided us with electric light and hot water. The villageschool on the hill opposite was annexed and cleaned by a sculptor, asinger, a painter, and a judge of the Royal Horse Show. This was run asa convalescent home, and was the cause of many a muddy sit down, as itlay on the top of a greasy hill. 

Other large buildings were gradually added, sulphured, and cleaned untilwe had six hospitals, one of which was run for some time in connectionwith the Red Cross unit. 

Typhus had not stricken the village badly, but the old barracks werefull of cases which developed several days after each batch of woundedcame. 

The Red Cross unit took on the typhus barracks. Mr. Berry, seeing thatsurgery was for the moment a secondary thing, and having received abatch of Austrian prisoners riddled with typhus, built some barracks notfar from the school. Glass was unobtainable, so thin muslin was used forthe windows. 

The first precaution against bad air that Mr. Berry took in preparinghis chief surgical ward was to smash all top panes of the windows with abroom, thus earning the name of the Window Breaker. Whenever the windblew through the draughty corridors and glass rattled down from thesashes, word went round that "Mr. Berry has been at it again. "

Our unit and the Red Cross ran a quarantine hospital together. It wasoriginally the state café and lay in the park of the watering-place. Near by were the sulphur baths. We ripped out the stuffy little woodendressing-rooms, to the joy of the bath attendant, who possessed thefacsimile of Tolstoi's face, and with the _débris_ we built a large shedoutside for the reception of the wounded. 

In the early days they came in large batches from other hospitals, pathetic septic cases, their lives ruined for want of proper care. Weput their clothes in bags for future disinfecting, and the men, mildlyperplexed, were bathed, shaved, and sent to the "clearing-house, " as itwas called. Those who developed typhus went to the barracks, and therest were drafted to the various hospitals in the village. 

The clothes were first sulphurized to kill the lice, and then, until Dr. Boyle's disinfector appeared, boiled. This was important, as typhus ispropagated by infected lice. Even forty-eight hours of sulphur did notdestroy the nits. One day the sulphur-room was opened after twenty-fourhours. Live lice were discovered congregated round the tops of the bags. Jan put some in a bottle. They immediately fought each other, tooth andnail, rolling and scrambling in a mass just like a rugby-football scrum, and continued the fight for twelve hours at least, thus proving that thescientific writer who says that the louse is a delicate creature andonly lives a few hours off the body can know little of the Serbianbreed. 

The town, when we arrived, was a bouquet of assorted and nasty smells, of which the authorities seemed proud. We cleaned up the streets byrunning a little artificial river down the gutter. Mr. Berry had thechief of the police sacked and instituted a sort of sanitary vigilancecommittee. We took over the local but very primitive sewage works--afield into which all the filth of the town was drained. 

The slaughter-house was discovered. It was an old wooden shed builtover the lower end of the stream which washed the village from end toend, draining successively the typhus barracks, the baths, and all thehospitals. The shed itself was old and worm-eaten. The walls were cakedwith the blood of years, yet the meat was always hung against them afterhaving been well soused in the filthy water. Mr. Berry decided to builda new one: some of the money was subscribed through Mr. Blease by theLiverpool Liberal Club; the rest Mr. Berry paid himself. At once thestate began to quarrel with the commune as to the ownership of theproposed treasure. So the smells disappeared and the town engineer wasfurious, saying he would "Put all right" when we left. 

Luckily one of the chief men in the town had lived in America and knewthe value of cleanliness. Mr. Berry was offered an honorary Colonelcy;but he refused, saying he would prefer to be made sanitary officer forthe town. 

[Illustration: IN-PATIENTS. ]

The spring came, bringing with it no fighting. A great offensive wasexpected, had been ordered, in fact, but we heard later that the armyrefused to advance. The work was very much lighter. Very few men wereentirely helpless. The hospitals, which were still emptying themselvesand whose men were coming to us, sent the survival of the fittest. Mostof the beds were carried out under the trees after the morningdressings were done, and the men lay gossiping and smoking when theycould get tobacco. Outside visitors were rare. The Serbian ladies do notgo round the hospitals with cigarettes and sweets, and to find a Serbianwoman nursing is an anomaly. 

Report says that many flung themselves into it with energy during thefirst Balkan War, but that four years of it, ending with typhus, haddulled their enthusiasm. It is not fair to blame them. To nurse frommorning till night in a putrid Serbian hospital with all windows closedrequires more than devotion and complete indifference to life. ThreeSerbian ladies came to sew pillow cases and sheets every afternoon, andone of them gave up still more time to teach the patients reading andwriting. 

But the town was full, in the summer, of smartly dressed women, and thevillage priest never once visited our hospitals. Hearing of the Englishmissions and their work, peasants began to come from the mountainsaround, and the out-patient department became, under Dr. Helen Boyle, amatter for strenuous mornings. 

Many of these poor things had never seen a doctor in their lives. Serbiaeven in peace-time had not produced many medical men, and those whoexisted had no time to attend the poor gratis. 

The percentage of consumptives was enormous. Every family shuts itswindows and doors for the winter and proceeds industriously to spit, andso the disease spreads. 

Diphtheria patients rode and walked often for ten hours and waited inthe courtyard, and people far gone with typhus staggered along in theblazing spring sun. 

One jolly old ragatops with typhus arrived in the afternoon with aviolent temperature, and Jo settled him comfortably in the courtyardwith his head on a sink until Mrs. Berry should come in to see abouttaking him into the barracks. He seemed quite happy about himself, butvery worried about his blind beggar brother and his two half-blindchildren, whose sight had been ruined by smallpox. 

For the latter nothing could be done. 

Another time she kept two boys waiting to see if Mrs. Berry could takethem into her typhus barracks. One had scarlet fever, and the other wasa young starving clerk in a galloping consumption, thirty-six hours fromhis home. 

Afraid to raise their hopes, and not knowing if there would be room forthem, Jo told them that they were to have some very strong medicine thatcould only be administered two hours after a dose of hot milk andbiscuit (the medicine was only bovril). By this time Mrs. Berry arrivedand managed to squeeze the boys in. 

However, we were told to clear the hospitals, for the wounded wereexpected. 

"What could be done with the scarlet fever boy?" At last an idea came:"The Mortuary, " built by the Horse Show Judge with such joy. Themortuary that we had all gone to admire as a work of art. 

But the scarlet fever boy did not seem to see it that way, for in thenight he escaped, and we have never seen him since. 

Diphtheria was so prevalent that the Red Cross on receiving a patient, gathered in the whole family for a few days, inoculated, washed, andgargled it. They also toured the villages around, digging out typhus andother infectious cases, thus stopping the spread of infection. They hada most energetic matron, Miss Caldwell, who had already nursed inCettinje during the Balkan Wars, and we have already told how shemanaged the Montenegrins. 

Often the patients came in ox-carts. Too ill to be lifted out, they hadto be examined and treated in the carts. Dr. Boyle acquired a specialnimbleness in jumping in and out of these contrivances armed withstethescope, spoons, bowls, and dressings. We accumulated a congregationof "regulars, " who came to be dressed every day--gathered feet, suppurating glands, eczema, etc. 

One old mother with a bad leg was bandaged up with boracic ointment andtold to come back in two days. She came. Jo undid the bandage. All theold lady's fleas had swarmed to the boracic till it looked like afly-paper. After which we used Vermigeli. 

All wore brightly woven belts, sometimes two or three, each a yard and ahalf long, tightly wound round their bodies, thus making their waistswider than their hips. One girl was black and blue with the patternshowing on her skin, and many men were suffering from the evils of tightlacing. 

The village priest received belts as fees from the peasants when hemarried them. He sent us a message to say he had some for sale, so wewent in a body to his house, were received by his daughter, who lookedlike a cow-girl, turned over a basketful of belts, and bought largely. After which he put up the price. 

Jo went on night duty for the first time. 

A queer experience this, starting the day's work at half-past seven inthe evening and finishing at seven in the morning--breakfasting whenother people are dining; hearing their contented laughter as they go offto bed; and then a queer loneliness and the ugly ticking of a clock. Onecreeps round the big ward. What a noisy thing breathing is. Some onegroans, "Sestra, I cannot sleep. " This man has not been ordered morphia. Silence once more broken only by the sound of the breathing, distanthowling of dogs from the darkness or the hoot of an owl. The oldfrostbite man coughs; he coughs again insistently. Both say "Yes" to hotmilk. So down to the big kitchen, some mice scatter by, the puppy wakesup and thinks it is time for a game. A woman's voice calls loudly, "Sestra. " Taking the milk off, Sestra hurries across the courtyard andalong the corridor to the little rooms with the puppy tugging at herskirt. The woman wants water; she has wakened the other women--they wantwater. When silence again comes back into the ward, one notesinstinctively the vivid colouring of the two big blue windows at the farend, the long lines of beds disappearing into the darkness, the dimlight of the lantern on the table showing up the cheap clock and a fewflowers. The intensity of light upon this clock is only equalled by theintensity of one's thoughts upon the clock. The minute-hand drags on asthough it were weary with the day's work. A groan ticks off the quartersand cries for water or milk the half-hours. At last one o'clock. Timefor a midnight meal. Eggs and cocoa hurriedly eaten without appetite inthe kitchen, but breaking the monotony. Back to the ward again, one ofthe patients very restless, in great pain. Poor fellow, he has had along and hard time of it, fifteen months in bed and all due to earlyneglect. 

"Sestra, " he says, "sestra, " and holds out a handkerchief heavy withcoin. "Tell the doctor to take me down to the operating-room and cure meor not let me wake up. "

Between four and five there is more movement in the ward. Groans giveway to yawns. In the windows the blue is paling to grey. Cocks arecrowing now quite close, now faintly, like an echo. Suddenly the worldis filled with work, "washings, brushings, combings, cleanings, temperatures, breakfasts, medicines, some beds to make, reports, allfitted together like a jigsaw puzzle, until at last the day-sisters comeand relieve, and yawning at the daylight one eats warmed-up dinner whilethe others are having breakfast. "

After a seven weeks' absence one was bound to miss many old friends inthe ward. Some had gone home, others were back in the army. Old Number13, the king of the ward, was still there. He had a dark brown face andwhite hair, and was furious if any dared to call him a gipsy. 

"I am a respectable farmer, " he said, "and I own seventeen pigs, ahorse, and five sheep, a wife, and two children. "

He loved to tell of his wedding. It was done in the correct old Serbianstyle. He went with his mother and a gun to the chosen one's house, where she was waiting alone, her parents tactfully keeping out of theway. They abducted the lady, who was treated with great honour as avisitor in her future father-in-law's house. 

"Father" turned up next morning. Rakia was served, and father divulgedceremoniously how many pigs he could spare to them for keeping hisdaughter. 

Number 13 wanted to know everything: how old was Jo, how much she waspaid?

"What, you are not paid?" he said in amazement. "Then the English arewonderful! In Serbia our women would not do that. "

Poor little John Willie still left a blank, though he had died longbefore. His name was not John Willie, but it sounded rather like it, sowe just turned it into John Willie. He loved the name, and told hisfather about it. 

They sat all afternoon hand-in-hand, saying at intervals, "Dgonn Oolie, "and chuckling. 

Jan once had brought back from a spring visit to Kragujevatz somehorrible sun hats. 

They were the cast-off eccentricities of the fashions of six years ago, and had drifted from the Rue de la Paix to this obscure Serbian shopwhich was selling them as serious articles of clothing. Jo tried themon, and one of the nurses became so weak with laughter that she tumbledall the way downstairs. 

Finding them quite impossible, Jo bequeathed them to the ward, wherethey were snapped up enthusiastically. 

The ugliest was an immense sailor hat, the crown nearly as wide as thebrim, but the head hole would have fitted a doll. However, John Williefancied that hat and was always to be seen, a tiny, round-backed figure, wandering slowly in a long blue dressing-gown, blue woolly boots, andthe enormous hat perched on the top of his pathetically drooping head. 

One day poor little John Willie became fearfully ill. His parentsarrived and sat dumbly gazing at him for two nights, while he panted hispoor little life away. His friend the Velika Dete (big child), once afierce comitaj, was moved away from the "Malo Dete, " to make more room, and he sulked, while the Austrian prisoner orderlies ran to and fro withwater for his head, milk, all the things that a poor little dying boymight need; and old Number 13 passed to and fro shaking his head, for hehad been long in hospital and had seen many people die. 

A man with knees bent (he said with scroogling them up all winter in thecold) was put in John Willie's place. The Velika Dete came back, but hewould not speak to "Bent Knees" for weeks. 

By this time the Austrian prisoners were very well trained and madeexcellent orderlies in the ward. An ex-Carlton waiter was very dexterousin sidling down the ward: on his five fingers a tray perched high, containing dressing-bowls and pots bristling with forceps, scissors, andvarious other instruments. 

His chief talent lay in peppering frostbitten toes with iodoformpowder--a reminiscence of the sugar castor. 

Our housemaid was a leather tanner, whom Jo's baby magpie mistook forits parent, as he fed it at intervals every morning. A Czech in typhuscloths spent his days down in the disinfecting, operating and bathrooms. He had been an overseer in a factory and had added to his income bywriting love-stories for the papers. A butcher was installed in thekitchens. Once a week he became an artist, killing a sheep according tothe best Prague ideals. 

All our prisoners, about forty in number, clung to the English hospitalsas their only chance of life, for in other places sixty per cent. Haddied of typhus. 

The Serbs, though bearing no animosity, could do little for them. We sawthe quarters of some men working on the road. These were show quartersand supposed to be clean. Each room had an outside door. On the floorwas room for six men and hay enough to stuff one pillow. They had norugs, and the Serbs could give them none. The cold in the winter musthave been intense. 

We had come back to this little world after seven weeks' wandering, andalmost immediately Jan had gone off to Kragujevatz with a broken motor. 

While he was away Jo got letters from England and Paris, which made herrealize that things were rather in a mess, and we should have to gohome. We had left England intending to stay in Serbia three months, andhad been then nearly nine. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XV

SOME PAGES FROM MR. GORDON'S DIARY

OCTOBER 2ND. Got a wire from Kragujevatz to say that the motorhood is ready and that we must go over to get it fitted. We cleaned andoiled the car, and at two ran it down the hill, but it would not start. Found two sparking plugs cracked and the magneto very weak. When we hadfixed it up it was too late. Four a. M. To-morrow morning. 

OCTOBER 3RD. Started in the dark, Mr. Berry, Sister Hammond, Sava, I, and a female relation of some minister or other who wanted togo to Kralievo. The motor working badly, as it is impossible to get theproper spare parts. Three young owls were sitting in the middle of theroad scared by our headlights; we hit one, the other two flew away. Savaand I stopped and tinkered at the old machine for about an hour, changedall the sparking plugs again, after which she went better. We reachedKralievo without incident, where we cast loose the female relation. FromKralievo passed over the Morava, which was pretty floody and hadknocked the road about a bit. The road led right through the Shumadiacountry, where the first revolts of the Serbian nation against theirTurkish oppressors were engendered. We passed the old Serbianchurchyard. I never passed by without going in. These queer oldtombstones all painted in days when pure decoration had a religiousappeal, these tattered red and white and black banners lend such a gayair to death; these swords and pistols and medals carved into the stoneseem almost carrying a bombast to heaven. On one side of each tombstoneis the name of its owner, preceded by the legend, "Here lies the slaveof God. " Do slaves love their masters?

When we passed this road in the winter, black funeral flags hung fromalmost every hut, and even now the rags still flap in the breeze. ASerbian boy, clad in dirty cottons, shouted to us, makinggesticulations. We slowed down and stopped. 

"Bombe, " he cried. "Aeropla-ane. Pet, " he held up five fingers, "y jedanje bili slomile. Vidite shrapnel. "

He pointed. We saw a quiet, early autumn landscape, the blue skyslightly flecked with thin horizontal streaks of cloud. Any scene lesswarlike could not have been imagined. 

"Vidite tamo, " he cried once more. 

Straining our eyes one could just see, between the lowest strata ofcloud, a series of small white round clouds floating. 

"Shrapnel, " said Sava, pointing. 

"They hit one, " said Mr. Berry. 

I let in the clutch, we sped on once more. Bang! a tire burst. 

Motor driving in Serbia is not a profession, it is an art. We were onanother of these first-class Serbian roads. Presently we came to a longdownhill. 

"That is the place, " said Mr. Berry to Sister Hammond, "where we spentthe night last winter when the motor stuck in the mud. There, beneaththat tree. "

We shrugged our way down the hill, and presently came into the gipsyenvironments of Kragujevatz. 

A man stopped us, holding up a hand. 

"Bombe, " he said. 

We got out. In the soft earth at the side of the road was a neat hole, four inches in diameter. Peering down we could see the steel handle ofthe unburst bomb. We next passed a smashed paling, in the garden behinda crowd were searching for relics. An old woman had been killed, theysaid. We turned into the main street and plunged into a large crowd. Thepavement had been torn up, and people were grubbing in the mud; piecesof charred wood were passed from hand to hand. 

"That's a bit of propeller, " said one. "No; it's a bit of the frame, "said another. A girl proudly held up a large piece of map scorched allround the edges. 

"And the men?" we asked. 

"Nemachke (Germans), " answered the crowd; "both dead; one here, one overthere, " pointing to the middle of the road. 

We came into the Stobarts' camp, pitched up on the hill behind theKragujevatz pleasure ground. 

"Did you see the aeroplanes?" they cried, running towards us. 

"No, " we answered; "but we saw the shrapnel. "

"One was hit--it was wonderful. They were flying just over here, and ashrapnel burst quite close; and then one saw a thin stream of smoke comefrom the plane; then a little flicker. It seemed to fall so slowly. Thenit burst into flames and came down like a great comet. "

"D----n!" we said: "if only that machine had been working rightyesterday. "

We took our car down to the arsenal, and I left Sava to take it to bitsand get it opened out, for there had been a bit of a knock in the crankcase. The remains of the smashed aeroplane were piled in the yard, andfrom the way it had twisted up without breaking one could see from whatbeautiful metal the machinery was made. Some of the French expertsdenied that the guns had hit it--giving as their reason that one of itsown bombs had exploded. But one of the engineers put his hand into a bighole which was beneath the crank case and drew out a shrapnel ball. Ithought that would settle it, but the Frenchmen were not convinced. Theshells were bursting fifty metres too low, they said. Fifteen bombs hadfallen about the arsenal, and one man, a non-commissioned officer, hadbeen killed. 

Met Hardinge and Mawson: they both saw the aeroplane fall, and were notfifty yards from the place where it struck. 

Walked back to the Stobarts' camp for lunch. A French aeroplane had comeover from Belgrade too late; now it rose slowly in the air and sailedoff. Saw the two dead aviators; both had evidently been killed at once, for they were charred, not blistered. 

Colonel Phillips, ex-Governor of Scutari, and English military attaché, came up with the Italian attaché. A bomb had fallen just before thecolonel's house and missed his servant by a hair's-breadth. The Italianwas in a room opposite the Crown Prince's palace; he thought that thefalling machine was going to crash through the roof, but it fell in thestreet not ten yards away. The camp itself was packing hard, for Mrs. Stobart had just decided to form a "flying field ambulance. "

Mr. Berry and I had a tent assigned to us. 

October 4th. Awoke to sounds like some one hitting a board with amallet. Ran outside. One found the aeroplane from the little clouds ofshrapnel, for it was flying very high, and was like a speck. Clouds ofsmoke were rolling from one quarter of the town, and we thought that abig fire was beginning, but it was extinguished. Another aeroplane camelater. The guns began long before it could be seen. It dropped two bombsover the powder factory, and two in the town. Mrs. Stobart orderedeverybody from the camp; but nobody left except the patients, who weredriven a mile out and dumped in a wood. A long procession of townsfolkfiled continuously by, running from the danger. The aeroplane droppedtwo more bombs in the town, and came back flying right over the camp. Itwas a queer feeling, staring right up at the plane, and wondering ifanother bomb were not falling silently towards one. 

I went down to the arsenal to see about the car; and Mr. Berry and MissHammond went off to see the anti-aircraft guns. Mrs. Stobart had askedme to go out on the Rudnik road to see a car which had broken down, andhad promised to send a motor to fetch me. Before we could leave, newswas brought that another aeroplane had been telephoned. Presently wecould hear the guns beginning. Hardinge turned up, and we looked out forthe machine. We saw the aeroplane coming straight towards us; everybodyrushed for the cellars, but I wanted to stay outside for the lastmoment. Hardinge was with me. Suddenly I lost sight of the plane. I ranfarther out to look for it, and suddenly there was a report, and a greatcolumn of smoke just outside the arsenal. There was another behind therifle shops, and another behind the boiler sheds. Now the aeroplane wasoverhead. I heard a noise like tearing silk, and lay flat upon theground shouting to Hardinge--

"Lie flat, d----n you!"

It seemed ages before it burst. Dust and bits flew everywhere; thewindows all sprang out into the yard. I looked for Hardinge, but he wasunharmed. I had expected to be terrified, but I was feeling so botheredabout Hardinge that I had no time to think about myself. 

We heard a shrill crying, "Oh--h! oh--h!"

I ran forward, crying to Hardinge, "A man's hurt!" He answered, "Is he?"The dust was so thick I could not see at first, but as it cleared Ifound a workman lying on back and elbows, his knees drawn up as thoughhe were trussed; his head waved from side to side, and he was utteringspasmodic cries. I said to him, "Where? where?" and he placed a hand tohis stomach. 

The man had been struck just below the ribs by a large piece of bomb, blood was welling from the wound, so I pushed his shirt into it, and ranback to the office. Mrs. Stobart's car had been brought by a lady and ayouth named Boon, who had both taken cover in the cellar; so I dug upthe girl, whose name I have forgotten, as I hoped she knew "first aid. "Together we ran to the man, leaving Boon to bring the ambulance. "Bandages, " we demanded. "Haven't any, " answered the few Serbs who hadgathered round; "the first aid house has been blown to pieces. " Wecrammed our handkerchiefs into the place, and a cotton-wool arm padwhich was brought, and we then took off the man's own puttees and tiedhim up with them. As we were doing this somebody cried--

"Aeroplanes returning. "

Immediately every Serb and Austrian fled. The girl, Hardinge, and I wereleft alone. It was a false alarm. With the returning crowd came a largeman, who was weeping. 

[Illustration: BROKEN AEROPLANE IN THE ARSENAL AT KRAG. ]

[Illustration: WHERE THE "PLANE" FELL. ]

[Illustration: HOUSE NEAR THE ARSENAL DAMAGED BY BOMBS. ]

"Oh, my poor brother! oh, my poor brother! What have they done tothee? Why should this evil have befallen thee?"

As we finished tying him up, Hardinge said, "Is it any good lying down?"

I answered, "If this poor chap had been lying down he would not havebeen hurt. "

There was no stretcher, so we lifted the wounded man on a blanket intothe ambulance, which Boon had now brought. The girl and the brotherclimbed within. I took the steering wheel. Boon wound up the engine, andswung alongside me. The driving was a difficult problem. Whether todrive fast and get to the hospital, or whether to go slow and spare thewounded man as much pain as was possible? The road was awful: once ithad been laid with stone pavement, but many of the stones were missing, and in so bad a condition was it that although several bombs had fallenin the streets, one could not distinguish the bomb craters from theordinary holes in the road. At last I decided that as it was not afracture I would go as quickly as I dared. Above the clatter of themachinery I could hear the weeping of the brother and the intermittentcries of the wounded man, "Water, water. "

"I think he's going, " said the girl through the curtains. 

At last we reached the hospital. We laid the man on the ground and thedoctors did all they could. But it was useless, the piece of shell hadcut in directly beneath the heart. In ten minutes he was dead. I turnedto the brother and laying both hands upon his shoulders said--

"Your poor brother was too badly hit. We could not save him. "

He stared at me for a moment, not understanding. Then he turned andflung himself down upon the body, weeping more bitterly than before. 

I went to the ambulance and took it back to its place. 

The aeroplane returning from the arsenal had flung three gratuitousbombs at the camp itself, one had fallen in the Serbian hospital yard, and had killed an Austrian prisoner; one had fallen in the top corner ofthe camp field, but had not exploded. The third had missed, only by alittle, the room in which the two dead German aeroplanists were lying, had plunged into the Stobarts' storeroom, and had burst in the last caseof marmalade which they possessed. It was an awful mess. Had it fallenthree yards to the left it would have killed the chief cook, who wasjust on the other side of the wall. 

I went back to the arsenal. None of the bombs had struck any importantpart, almost all had fallen in open places, though one had burst on theroof of the woodshed, only a few yards from the petrol store. Two cansof petrol had been punctured by bits of shell, and Austrian prisonerswere hurriedly pumping them out. Almost half the work of the arsenal wasdone by Austrian prisoners. Another bomb had fallen in the horseshoestore, and inside horseshoes were everywhere, some even sticking in thebeams like great staples. I had no idea before that the bombs had suchforce. Sava said he had been standing in a doorway and a bomb hadexploded quite close, a piece had whizzed by his nose and had torn downthe name board over his head. When he turned round to go on with thework the aide had fled and never appeared again. 

I met Dr. Churchin. He is one of the best Serbs I have yet met, aphilosopher. He was looking after the English units in Kragujevatz and Ilearnt did it excellently, and with a devotion to his duties altogetherunusual. He told me that I had been nominated an honorary captain; but Iam under the impression that it is an honour I cannot by national lawaccept. 

We went in the afternoon in the car towards Rudnik to examine the onewhich had broken down. I soon saw that nothing could be done on thespot, and ordered it to continue its "bullocky" progress to the camp. Inthe evening went off to the Government motor school, where I found myold friend Ristich and Colonel Derrock; both these men are first-classSerbs--jolly, keen and friendly. 

October 5th. Our car not being finished, Mr. Berry and Sister Hammondwent back to Vrntze in a car lent by Colonel Derrock. I was to stay tillall the repairs were completed on ours. There was another scare ofaeroplanes, and the whole town emptied itself, families pouring by enroute for the country; but the planes did not come. I went down to thearsenal and got on with the repairs. Dr. May lent me her camera and Igot some photos. Mrs. Stobart went off with her "flying field force, "taking with her nearly all the men and almost all the cars: if thehospital get many serious cases I imagined that they would be dreadfullyshorthanded. 

In the night the two German aeroplanists were buried without militaryhonours. The Serbs said that they were assassins and deserved nothing. Still, Kragujevatz is an arsenal. 

October 6th. Another aeroplane scare; town emptied itself once more. Dr. MacLaren and I rushed off to the anti-aircraft guns, hoping to get somephotos; but nothing occurred. Got the Rudnik car running by taking Mr. McBlack's useless car to pieces. In the evening two sisters went toUskub. One of the sisters went to get her bag, and I took what I thoughtto be a short cut to help her. I passed between the tents, and wasstriding along, when--Plop! I found myself swimming in a deep tank ofwater. The sister heard me fall, and ran back to the camp crying out--

"Help, help! The stranger is drowning in the bath-water sewage tank. "

I clambered out, and hastily fled to my tent, where kindly souls broughtme an indiarubber bath and hot water. I also got some refugee pyjamas, in which I wandered about for the rest of the evening. My clothes weretaken to the kitchen and hung over the big stove. 

October 7th. Went to the arsenal in borrowed refugee clothes miles toolarge. Worried the car till it worked. At lunch clothes dry. Got away bythree, Hardinge coming with us. Night came on before we got home. Ourcar is a beastly nuisance in the dark, the lamps, electric and workedfrom the magneto, only giving light when going at full speed, which isimpossible on these roads. I was just boasting to Harding that I hadnever run into anything except the owl, when I hit a cow. Figuresappeared cursing from the darkness; we cursed back for allowing theanimal to stray; other figures appeared cursing on our side. The motorwas pushed back, the cow got up and walked off, and on we went. Found Joon night shift. Got some supper, fixed up a bed for Hardinge, and soself to bed. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVI

LAST DAYS AT VRNTZE

Up till now Vrntze was undisturbed by the war; the fine ladies werewalking the streets much as usual, and were bringing pressure uponGaschitch, the commandant, to make us close one of our hospitals, sothat it might be reopened as a lodging-house. The chemist and Jan had anamusing conversation about the uncle of Nicholas I. It seems he was agreat poet. 

"Sir, " said the chemist, earnestly, "I can assure you that he was one ofthe greatest poets that ever has lived. Were Serbian a language asuniversally spoken as is English, he would stand beside Shakespeare inthe world's estimation, if not before. The depth of his philosophy, sir, it is astounding and so deep. There are passages in his poetry which Ihave studied for weeks on end and never yet been able to understand. "

The true explanation is that the great poet translated an old work ofGerman philosophy into Serbian, and very likely did not understand allthe original himself. 

We got more letters urging us to return. Our studios in Paris and allour work of the last eight years seemed in danger of being sold up. SoJan went once more to the Chief. He asked us to stay until at least thefirst batch of wounded arrived, for none of the others had hadexperience of the receiving arrangements, and of the disinfecting. Wemoved our beds and baggage to the school, which Jo was to take over as aconvalescent hospital. 

By the way, one of our doctors had a queer soothsaying experience. Shewas told that she was one day going to a foreign country with an S inthe name. She would be quite safe in her first job, but that she wouldbe offered a post in a large grey building from which if she acceptedshe might not escape alive, but in any case would be flying for herlife, and that she and all her companions would suffer great hardshipsand sleep on dirty straw in awful places. She was offered a job at theFarmers' hospital in Belgrade. She refused. It is a great grey building, and we now heard that Belgrade was being violently bombarded and all hadto escape. Rumours came of great German attacks on Shabatz andObrenovatz. 

The next day Serbian refugees arrived from Belgrade itself: they saidthat the town was in flames and that fierce fighting was taking place inthe streets. Posheravatz was deserted, and a great battle was ragingabout its outskirts. There were reports that the King of Bulgaria hadabdicated and that the Germans at Chabatz had been defeated, leaving8000 prisoners in Serbian hands. Neuhat came to Jan in great glee. 

"We have captured a German major, " he said, "and he says that never wasthere a soldier like the Serb. He has fought English and French andRussians, but he says our troops are the most wonderful of all. "

"Jolly sensible chap, " said Jan. "I'd say the same myself if I was aprisoner. "

Major Gaschitch told Dr. Berry that if the Serbian army retreated wewere to retreat with them. Blease and Jan got hard at work putting ropehandles to the packing-cases and labelling them for special purposes. One of our lady doctors was valued in the morning. In the outpatientdepartment a question arose about marriage. A Serb patient said--

"I can marry any time I like. Pah! In Serbia one can get two maidens fortwopence, and three widows for a mariasch (1/2_d. _). "

Everybody was now running about with maps, violently explaining thesituation to everybody else, and all explaining differently. MajorGaschitch had fixed Novi Bazar as our probable haven, and Mr. Berryborrowed our map to see if there were a direct road over Gotch mountain, and suggested that Jan might get a horse and ride over to see. Alas, only a fourth-class road was marked, and heaven knows what that may belike: lots of country and choose for yourself probably. A woman wasbrought in with what she said was a bullet through the breast; itoccurred during the celebration of the marriage ceremony, which lasted aweek. The girl was brought by her father, the bridegroom having rushedoff to the church to pray. The wound looked very like a dagger thrust. 

The new slaughter-house was a fine erection. The walls were almostfinished and the roof was being assembled. One of the Austrian prisonershad discovered a talent for stone carving, and Miss Dickenson wasdesigning a frieze for the door and on each side. There was a fineceremony--while we had been away--at the foundation, and Mr. Berry madea speech in Serbian. The disinfector had also arrived and was soon gotinto working order. 

The news got better. The Austrians were now driven out of Belgrade withimmense slaughter, the whole line of the Danube and of the Save hadbeen reoccupied by the Serbs. Blease and Jan wondered if it werenecessary to go on with the rope handles. Our first wounded man arrivedin the evening, a non-commissioned officer, with a slightly woundedthumb. He had arrived by train, asked in the town which was the mostcomfortable hospital, and had walked up. We represented that we weren'tlooking for thumbs, but had to put him up for the night; this meant thewhole business of washing, shaving, and disinfecting his clothes. 

We heard that the French and English had arrived in Nish, 70, 000 men, and that they had been greeted with the wildest enthusiasm; but againstthat was set the fact that Belgrade after all was not quite clear ofAustrians, in fact, they still held half the town, but that the "Swobs"were not getting on at Chabatz. "Swobs" in Serbian are any of a Germaniccountry, while in Austria it is a term of opprobrium, meaning "German. "One of our "Czech" orderlies said to Jo, pathetically--

"I never thought that I should be called a 'Swob. '"

Next day came a warning that two hundred wounded, serious cases, were tobe expected, so everything and everybody was in a rush. The bathrooms tobe cleaned, disinfecting-room and bags to be got ready, wards clearedas much as was possible. 

The wounded did not come, and the next day they did not come. Thechemist said that all the Austrians had been driven back, but that theBulgars had at last attacked. Mr. Berry thought the news rather serious, and told us that Gaschitch had said that we must be prepared to move attwenty-four hours' notice; so back we went to the work on the boxes. Next day news was brought that the Bulgars had drawn back, and had saidthat the Serbs had attacked them first, that the Powers had declared waron Bulgaria, and that the Russians had bombarded Varna. 

At last we got news that the wounded were really coming. We hurried intoour disinfecting garments--looking like pantaloons, --and scissors wereserved out to all the assistants. It was dark before the first motorload came. 

The undressing-room was a large white-stone floored room with four longplank beds covered with mackintosh; behind was the bathroom. The firstwounded man was pushed in through the window on a stretcher, a browncrumpled heap of misery, and groaning. We laid him carefully on the bedwhile the doctor searched for the wound. While she was examining him asecond was handed in. No need to examine this one. Bloody head bandageand great blue swollen eyelids told plainly where his wound was. Westripped the clothes as carefully as was possible from the poor fellows. Those who were too bad to go to the bathroom were washed where they lay. One orderly with soap and razors shaved every hair from each; andseveral plied clippers on the matted heads. Outside was one electriclamp which threw strong lights and darker shadows, making a veritableRembrandt of the scene, lighting up the white clad forms of theassistants who were drawing out the stretchers, the big square end ofthe ambulance car, and picking out from the gloom of the garden a rosetree which bore one white rose. 

The wounded were indescribably dirty, and their clothes in a shockingstate, all stiff with blood. Jo took charge of the clothes bags, seeingthat no man's clothes were mixed with any others. The men all seemeddazed, each soldier seemed to have the same protest upon his mind. "Thiswasn't the idea at all, I was not to be wounded. Why am I here?" Onesuddenly felt the brutal inanity of modern warfare; one felt that if theones who had started this war could only be forced to spend three monthsin a war hospital, receiving and undressing the fruits of their plots, they would have a different view of the glory and honour of battle. 

Each man had sewn in his belt some talisman to protect him fromdanger--small brass or lead image or medal, bought from the villagepriest. 

There was confusion at first, for almost all were new to their tasks;the barbers were carrying stretchers when they ought to have beenbarbering; the clippers were scrubbing instead of doing their properwork; but, nevertheless, it was marvellously rapid. The motor tore backto the station, and by the time it had returned its first load had beenwashed, shaved, arrayed in clean pyjamas, and either lay in bed in theward, or were waiting their turn outside the operating theatre. 

Mr. Berry was hard at work: there were several cases shot through thebrain, one through the lungs, one through the heart, and one through thespine; this latter was paralysed. 

Some wounded came in carriages; it was very difficult to get them on tothe stretchers without giving them unnecessary pain, because of theshape of the "fiacres. " At last all were passed through. 

Do not think us heartless if we rubbed our hands and said, "Some verygood cases, what!" for emotional pity can be separated from professionalpleasure, and if these things had to be we were pleased that the seriousones had come to us; had not gone to a Serbian hospital. 

Next day we sorted clothes. Every uniform had to be taken from its bag, tabulated, searched for money or food, and repacked. They were swarmingwith vermin, but we wore mackintosh overalls which are supposed to beanathema to the beasties. More operations. One of the men had been hitin the cerebellum, and was quite blind. The boy who had been hit in thelungs prayed for a cigarette and an apple, he felt sure they would dohim good. We sorted more clothes. One of the men had a pocket full ofscissors--evidently regimental barber; another's pockets were crammedwith onions; a third had a half-eaten apple, as though the fight hadsurprised him in the middle of his dessert. The cerebellum man wantedhis purse. We could not find it; after exhaustive inquiry found that thelung youth had stolen it. Another patient claimed he had lost thirty-sixfrancs; so down we had to go once more, search his package--thesmelliest of the lot--and at last found the money pinned into the liningof his coat, also a watch. Jan took them back to him, wound up the watchand set it. The grateful owner said that the watch was an ornament, butthat he could not read it. 

The French were never in Nish at all--all lies; but Austrian aeroplaneshad bombed it and killed several people. The Bulgarian comitaj cut theline at Vranja, but had been badly beaten in a battle near Zaichar. Theflight over Gotch degenerated into a joke, and Jo was commissioned to doa caricature of it. 

Suddenly a refugee turned up, the hostess of the rest house in Nish. Shewas very worried about the loss of her fifteen trunks, which she had hadto leave, and which contained all her family mementoes and miniatures. She hoped that the scare would only last a few days. The Bulgars hadoccupied Veles though, which was bad news. Another refugee lady fromBelgrade came in. More patients. Forty-nine for the "Merkur" hospital. Lots of running about, but at last all were bedded. 

A Serbian comitaj girl came in in the afternoon, looking for a ladydoctor. She was a fine upstanding creature with a strong, almost fierce, face. There had been six of her, she said, but one had been killed. Thebombardment of Varna turned out to be a lie, but they said that all theBulgars at Vrnja had been surrounded. Major Gaschitch also said that ifSerbia could hold out till the 10th, something wonderful was going tohappen. 

Our visitors had rather a hard time. One of them was trotting into thelittle sitting-room of the hospital. She opened the door and startedback aghast. There was a man within clad in nothing but a large pair ofmoustaches. She fled. Mr. Berry having nowhere to examine a straypatient had occupied the room at an unlucky moment. More wounded wereexpected, so we got into our war paint, and they arrived five hourslater than we had expected them. They came in "fiacres, " and climbed offvery easily. We inquired, "Where wounded?" "Belgrade. " "When?" "Threemonths ago. " Not a serious case amongst them, and we had heard that thebadly equipped hospitals at Krusevatz were crowded with the mostfrightful cases. We were furious. A lot more wounded came to the "State"café. None seriously hurt, and after examination one man had no wound toshow at all, nor shock, nor anything. He had simply run away. There wereseveral hand cases, some blackened with powder, proving that the poordevils had shot themselves to get out of it. One man would not have hishair cut because he said that he was in mourning for his brother, andhis hat was decorated with a crown of black lace. At the same time someserious cases came to the main hospital; one man seemed to have beenshot the whole length of his body, the bullet entering at the shoulderand emerging behind the hip. A small boy sat scratching. Jo said to him, "Why dost thou scratch?" He answered with a shout of fatuous content, "I have lice, I have lice, " and scratched once more. 

The disinfector was working overtime, clothes were poured upon us fromall the other hospitals. Another alarm that wounded were coming, butthey never came. In their place an English clergyman arrived from Krag. News came of the fall of Uskub, and that Lady Paget had been capturedwith all her staff. Next day the wounded came, many more than had beenexpected. Jan got rather strong signs of inflammatory rheumatismthreatening, so he went to bed for a couple of days with salicylate. 

The Serbian authorities were beginning to lose their heads. In themorning they said that the "State" was to be made into a hospital forofficers, and chased all the patients out; in the afternoon they decidedthat it was not, and chased back the patients--who had been dividedamongst the other hospitals. Thus they kept us busy and accomplishednothing. In the evening another batch of wounded came in. 

Nearly all the reports of the previous week were now confessed to belies. A Serbian minister had been dying in the town, and the goodstories were made up to keep him cheerful. Now he was dead the truthleaked out. The Austrians and Germans were advancing on every side, theSerbs making no resistance since Belgrade. The Bulgars had occupied thewhole of the line south of Nish. The French and English were advancingwith extreme difficulty. The Farmers' unit trailed into the town, noconveyance having been arranged for them from the station. The Scottishwomen were already here, having come in the night; they had to sleeptwelve or fifteen in a room. Next day a small contingent of the woundedAllies arrived. 

Sir Ralph Paget arrived in a whirl. Leaders of units appeared from allsides, and a hurried conference was held. 

Mr. Berry called a meeting at two. He said Paget had announced that thegame was up; that all members of units should have the option of goinghome, and that he (Paget) was going to Kralievo to see about transports. Jan got to work on the map, and decided that the best route out would beone to Novi Bazar, and thence by tracks to Berane. There were villagesmarked in the mountains which did not seem so high as those by Ipek, also the road, if there were one, would be at least two days shorter. 

Sir Ralph came back next day, and knowing that we had but latelyreturned from Montenegro, he asked Jan a lot of questions about theroad, etc. Sir Ralph's latest decision was that all men of militaryage--not doctors--should attempt to cross the mountains into Montenegro. He could not say if any transport could be provided, or if there wouldbe any means of escaping from Montenegro, and in consequence he advisedno women to move, as they would be better where they were, than infacing the risks of the mountains; they would not be in the same dangeras the orderlies, for whom internment was to be expected. Dr. Holmesdecided to accompany us, as he said he wasn't going to doctor Germans, and he might be useful to the retreating Serbian army. Ellis also saidthat he would come and would bring his car, which would help us at leastsome of the way. Sir Ralph asked Jan to take charge of the party of theEnglish Red Cross, and we went back to our rooms to repack, for Jo hadalready arranged things for internment, Mr. Blease decided to come withus. Nobody knew what the dangers would be, or where the Austrians andGermans were, and many doubted if it were possible to get through. Theseason was getting late, and snow was daily to be expected. Someimaginative people enlarged on "the brigands" and "wolves, " but we didnot think that they counted for much. The chief problems were, if wecould get shelter each night, and could we carry enough food to supportus in case we could get none, which seemed very possible. 

We got an order from Gaschitch for bread from the Serbian authorities. We were going off into country, the real conditions of which nobodyknew, and our friends took leave of us, many expecting to see us back ina few days. The Austrian prisoners were very sad at our going. 

The station was dark and gloomy, the little gimcrack Turkish kiosk--likea bit of the White City--was filled with Red Cross stoves and beds. Twotrains came in, but neither was for Kralievo; one was Red Cross and theother for Krusevatz. A lot of boys, in uniform, clambered on board andshouting out, "Sbogom Vrntze, " were borne off into the night. Ourspirits fell lower and lower. We thought of the friends we were leavingbehind us, and of what we had before us. The reaction had set in, intensified by the gloom and cold of the station. 

Hours later the train arrived. The only third-class carriage was filledto overflowing, people were standing on the platform and sitting on thesteps. We tried the trucks. All were crammed so full that the doorscould not be opened. 

"You'd better go to-morrow, " said the station-master. 

"We're not going through that a second time, " we said. "Can't we climbon to the roof?"

We scrambled up. There were other men there, lying in brown heaps. Wemade some of them move up a little, stowed our blankets and knapsacks, and sat amongst them. 

"Are you all right?" shouted the station-master. 

"Yes. "

"Good-bye, then. Lie down when you come to the bridges, or you'll getyour heads knocked off. "

We lay down at once, taking no risks, not knowing when the bridges werecoming. Luckily the wind was with us, and the night was warm. The engineshowered sparks into the air, which fell little hot touches on to ourfaces and hands. Later a little rain fell. 

Kralievo at three a. M. We did not know the town so Jo stormed thetelegraph office. The officials tried to shut the door, but she got herfoot into it. 

"When I ask you a polite question you might answer it, " she said. 

"You can get shelter next door, " said one grumpily. 

We tried next door. It was crowded, and the heat within was unbearable. We saw a door in the opposite wall and opened it--back into thetelegraph office. There were people sleeping there already, so withoutasking permission we dumped our baggage and lay down on the floor. Theofficials said nothing. 

After a while two French generals (or somethings) came in. They wererefused as we were, but they took no notice, unpacked their blankets andlay down under the great central table. With them was a wife, she satmiserably on a chair. The room got so stuffy when the door was shut thatshe wished it opened; the draught was so bad when the door was open thatshe immediately wished it shut. Unfortunately she got mixed: the Serbianfor open is very like the word for shut, and she used them reversed. There was much confusion. Just as the officials were getting used to herinversions, she corrected herself. More confusion. An English girl camein, pushed aside the papers on the big table, and began to brew cocoa ona Primus stove which she had brought with her. The officials lookedhelplessly at each other. Jan recognized her as one of the Stobart unitfrom Krag: she had got astray from her band, but was now rejoining them. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVII

KRALIEVO

We roused ourselves at seven a. M. A damp, chilly fog was hanging lowover the valley, it penetrated to the skin, and one shuddered. Therailway was congested, but train arrived after train, open trucks allpacked with men whose breath rose in steam, and whose clothes weresparkling with the dew. We stepped from the station door into a thickblack "pease puddingy" mud, as though the Thames foreshore had beenchurned up by traffic. Standing knee deep in the mud were weary oxen andhorses attached to carts of all descriptions, with wheels whose rims, swollen by the mire, were sunk almost to the axles. Across the mud, surrounded by shaky red brick walls, the District Civil Hospital showedpale in the morning, and we made towards it, splashing. 

We came to the lodge: an English girl was doing something to a kitchenstove. She stared at us. 

"Hullo!"

"We've just come from Vrnjatchka Banja, " we explained. 

She took Jo to the hospital, while Blease and Jan dropped their heavyluggage and washed in a basin, provided by a Serb servant girl. Jo didnot return. Jan went to the hospital to look for her. 

Crowds of men were at the door, crowds in ragged and filthy uniforms, with bandages on arms, or foot, or brow, dirty stained bandages withbloodstains upon them. Some of the men were crouching on the ground, some were lying against the house, fast asleep. Somehow we got throughthem. The passage was full of men, and men were asleep, festooned on thestone stairs. The smell was horrible. Beyond a swinging glass doorScottish women were hurrying to and fro bandaging the men as theyentered, and passing them out on the other side of the building. TheSerbs waited with the stoicism of the Oriental, their long lean facesdrawn with hunger, pain and fatigue. Now and again some man turneduneasily in his sleep and groaned. A detachment of "Stobarts" had founda lodging upstairs, in a bedroom with plank beds; amongst them we foundsome old friends. 

Leaving them we went into the village to look for a meal, back throughthe mud. Soldiers, peasants, women, children, horse carts and bullockwaggons, all were pushing here and there, broken down and desertedmotor cars were standing in the middle of the road. In the great roundcentral "Place" confusion was worse, animals, carts, and refugeebivouacks being all squashed together on the market place. 

White-bearded officers with grey-green uniforms were gesticulating towhite-bearded civilians outside the Café de Paris. A motor rushed up, disgorged three men in Russian uniform and fled. A small fat man vainlyendeavouring to attract the attention of a staff officer grasped him bythe arm; the staff officer shook him off angrily. Soldiers loungedagainst the walls and peered in through the dirty windows. .. . 

Within, the big dark room was crammed. Opening the door was like turninga corner of cliff by the seashore. Almost all, at the tables, were men:officers, tradesmen, clerks, talking in eager tense words. We foundthree seats. Nobody had anything to eat or drink. Three men came to thetable next to us. They exhibited two loaves of bread to the others, andhad the air of some one who had done something very clever. We werefamished. 

Suddenly half the café rose and rushed to a small counter almost hiddenin the gloom of the far end. Coffee can be got, said some one. Blease, who could get out the easier, went to explore. In a short while hewandered back saying that he had got a waiter. A man came throughselling apples. We bought some. At last the waiter came. 

"Café au lait, " said we. 

"And bread, " we added, as he turned away. 

"Nema, " he answered, looking back. 

"Well eggs, then. "

"Nema. "

"What have you got?"

"We have nothing but meat. "

"No potatoes?"

"No. "

We got a sort of Serbian stew, the meat so tough that one had to saw themorsels apart with a knife and bolt them whole. As we were operating, asoldier leaned up against our table, and stared at our plates with awistful longing. Jo caught his eye. She scraped together all ourleavings; what misery we could have relieved, had we had money enough, in Serbia then. 

We paid our bill with a ten dinar (franc) note. The waiter fingered it amoment. 

"Haven't you any money?" he asked. 

"That is money. "

"Silver, I mean. "

"No. "

He hesitated a moment. Then went away, turning the note over in hishands. After a while he returned and gave us our change. 

The day passed in a queer sort of daze of doing things; between one actand another there was no definite sequence. The town itself was in asort of suppressed twitter, everybody's movements seemed exaggerated, the eager ones moved faster, impelled by a sort of fear; the slow oneswent slower, their feet dragging in a kind of despondency. At one timewe found ourselves clambering up some steps to the mayor's office, insearch of bread. By a window on the far side of the room was a man witha pale face, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, and light hair:Churchin. We ran to him. 

"What are you doing here?" he said gloomily. 

We explained. 

"I don't think you can get any transport, " he said; "but later I'll seeif I can do anything. "

We thanked him. "But transport or no transport, we are going. " Janshowed him the bread order. He read it and pointed to the Nachanlik. 

The Nachanlik read our order, scowled and passed it on to another man, an officer. The officer read the order, looked us sulkily from head tofoot, then he pushed the paper back to us. 

"We have only bread for soldiers. "

"But--we are an English Mission. "

"Only for soldiers here. We have nothing to do with English Missions. "

Fearing that we had come to the wrong place we retired. 

At another time we were climbing up back stairs to what had been thetemporary lodgings of the English legation. But it was empty anddeserted; Sir Ralph Paget had not yet come. 

There were bread shops, but they were all shut and guarded by soldiers. Jan saw some bread in a window. He went into the dirty café, which wascrowded with soldiers, some sitting on the floor and some on the tables. 

"Whose bread?" asked he. 

"Ours. "

"Will you sell me a loaf?"

"We won't sell a crumb. "

We bought some apples from a man with a Roman lever balance, and chewedthem as we went along. 

At the hospital the "Stobarts" were packing up. A motor was coming forthem in the afternoon. We heard that Dr. May and the Krag people were atStudenitza, an old monastery, halfway along the road to Rashka. On theflat fields behind the station were another gang of "Stobarts, " thedispensary from Lapovo. One Miss H---- was in trouble, for thieves hadpushed their arms beneath the tent flaps in the night and had capturedher best boots. 

"There are cases full of boots on the railway, " said some one, consoling. 

"But those are men's boots, " said another. 

Part of the morning we spent sitting on the banks of the Ebar River andwatching the bridge, wondering if Ellis would come with his car. Tentimes we thought we could see it, and each time were deceived. 

The French aeroplanes came in. They hovered over the town seeking a flatplace, finally swooping down on to the marshy plain on which the"Stobarts" were encamped. They landed, dashing through the shallowpuddles and flinging the water in great showers on every side. As eachlanded it wheeled into line and was pegged down. Behind them was a lineof cannons, the Serbian engineers were hard at work, smashing off theirsighting apparatus, destroying the breech blocks, and jagging the liningwith cold chisels. Some of the cannon were Turkish. All the morning, through the noise of the town, the shouting of the bullock drivers, thepant of the motor cars, and the steady tap, tap of the engineers'mallets, came the faint booming of the battle at Mladnovatch, notfifteen miles away. 

After lunch we went again to the café. Again it was full, and we wereforced to wait for a table. Just as we sat down a woman with a drawn, anxious face came up to us, clutched Jo by the arm and said eagerly--

"Is it true that you are going to Montenegro?"

"Yes, " answered Jo. "If we can get there. "

"Could you give me only a little advice, madame? You see we do not knowwhat to do. My husband--he is an old man, and he is an Austro-Serb. Ifthe enemy catch him they will hang him. "

"I'm afraid he will have to walk, " said Jo. 

"But he is so old, " said the woman, with tears in her eyes; "he isfifty. "

"We ourselves will have to walk, " said Jo. "Make him a knapsack for hisfood. Give him warm clothes. It is his only chance of safety. And, " sheadded, "the sooner he gets away the better, for in a little all the foodon the road will be eaten up, and one will starve. "

The woman thanked us. "I will make him go at once, " she said, and ranout wringing her hands. 

A Russian woman with a thin-faced man sat at her table. 

"You are going to Montenegro?" she said. 

We nodded. 

"I too am going. I am a good sportswoman. I have walked fifty kilometresin one day. "

We looked at her well-corseted figure, her rather congested face, andhad already seen thin high-heeled shoes. 

"I will come with you, yes?"

The little man interrupted. "Why do you say such things, Olga? You knowthat you cannot walk a mile. "

We pointed out that we were going to march across the Austrian front, and that no one could tell us where the Austrians were exactly; that oursafety depended to some extent on our speed, and that the failure of oneto make the pace meant the failure of all. The little man drew her away. 

In the afternoon a miserable fit of depression took us, but we pushed itbehind us. To the hospital for tea, taking with us a tin of cocoa andsome condensed milk, which the people lacked. Biscuits and treacle, thetreacle looted from the railway, where an obliging guard had said thathe could not give permission to take it, but that he could look theother way. We heard the tale of Kragujevatz, of the camp and all thebuildings filled to overflowing. More aeroplane raids; and of the suddenorder to evacuate. All the wounded who could crawl were got from theirbeds and turned into the street by the authorities to go: if they couldnot walk, to crawl. A few Serb and Austrian doctors were left to guardand watch those too ill to go; with them some Swedish and Dutch sisters, and the Netherlands flag flying from the hospitals. Dr. Churchin seemedto have been the good genius of the Missions, never flagging in hisefforts for them. 

We heard that a Colonel Milhaelovitch was the bread officer. He livedsomewhere in the back of the big yellow schoolhouse at the end of thestreet. After tea we wandered drearily down to seek him, gainedpermission from a sentry, and clambered up some stone stairs. Jan saw anacquaintance from the Nish ministry, asked him a question, and wasushered . .. Straight into the Ministry of War. They seemed in afrightful stew about something, an air of disorder reigned everywhere, but somebody found time to look at the order. 

"Nachanlik, " said he. 

"We've been there already. "

"Well, go there again and say we sent you, and that they must give youbread. "

We were worn out by this. Jo went off to the plank bed which theStobarts had promised to her, while Jan and Blease to the tents, whereSir Ralph's men were sheltering. 

All the streets were edged with motionless bullock carts, in which menwere sleeping, and even in the mud between their wheels were the dimforms of the weary soldiery. The two splashed across the marsh and foundthe tents. 

Rogerson and Willett were there; Willett was seedy. Another Englishmannamed Hamilton, who had an umbrella which he had sworn to take backwith him to England. Also two Austro-Serb boys who had been acting asinterpreters. 

West and Mawson were not there. Rogerson said that Sir Ralph had sentthem with Mrs. M----to see the road and conditions at Mitrovitza; nobodyknew when they would be back. We got two beds, but there were nomattresses on the springs. Jan rolled up in his Serbian rug, but it wasloosely woven, and not as warm as he had hoped. Just not warm enough, one only dozed. About eleven o'clock, Cutting came in with Owen, Watmough, Hilder, and Elmer. They had come from Vrnjatchka Banja withDr. Holmes. Some one had told them that we had deserted them and hadgone off to Rashka on our own; they were cheered to find us still there. After that we lay awake discussing details. None of them had realizedthe difficulties of the road and the probable lack of food, though theRed Cross men had brought with them a case of emergency rations. Janexposed his idea of the route; somebody said that there was some cornedbeef and rice in a Red Cross train on the siding. 

Intermittently in the silences one could still hear the sound of theguns. 

Next morning at breakfast Dr. Holmes came in. He had thought us gone, and so had procured for himself and the sister who was with him, seatsin a Government motor which was going to Mitrovitza. We all splashedacross the marshy grass to the siding where the stores were. In theempty trucks on the line families were camping, and some had fitted themup like little homes. We found the truck, and with efforts dug outtwelve tins of corned beef, a case of condensed milk, one of treacle, and two tins of sugar. We emptied a kitbag and filled it with rice. 

The hospital was fuller than ever. The Scottish nurses were toiling asquickly as they could, and each man received a couple of hard ship'sbiscuits from a great sack, when his wounds were dressed. He immediatelywolfed the hard biscuits and lay down; in one minute he was asleep, andthe hospital grounds were strewn with the sleeping men. From time totime sergeants came in, roused the sleepers, formed them intodetachments, and marched them off. 

The Stobarts met us wringing their hands. There was no bread, nor couldthey procure any. Jan took their order, and we promised to see whatcould be done. As we passed the station we saw surging crowds of men, from the midst came cries of pain, and sticks were falling in blows. 

"Good Lord, what's that?" we cried. 

We plunged into the crowd. Some of the men and boys were gnawingangrily at pieces of biscuit which they held in their hands. The crowdsurged more violently, the sticks were plied with greater vigour;presently the crowd fell back snarling. The ground which they left wascovered with the crumbs of trampled biscuit, and the soldiers drove thecrowd yet further back, beating with sticks and cursing. A bread sackbeing unloaded from a waggon had burst, the hungry crowd had pounced . .. That was all. As we withdrew we saw the fortunate ones still gnawingferociously at the hard morsels which they had captured. 

We took our passes to the mayor once more. He received us angrily. 

"I told you yesterday, " he said. 

"The War Office sent us, " said Jan, sweetly, "and said that you mustgive us bread. "

"I have no bread, " said the mayor. "You must go to ColonelMilhaelovitch. "

We tramped back to the yellow school. There was no sentry, and a queerair of forlornness seemed to pervade. We asked a loiterer for thecolonel's office. He pointed. We climbed yet another stair and found apair of large rooms; they were empty. Town papers were scattered on thefloor, one table was overturned. 

A man lounged in. "Where is the colonel?" we asked. 

"Ne snam bogami, " he said, twisting a cigarette. 

"Well, find out, " said Jan. 

He lounged away and presently returned with another. 

"The colonel has evacuated, " said the other; "he went naturally with theMinistry of War to Rashka last night. "

We went back in a fury to the mayor. 

"You knew this, " we cried angrily to him. 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"Where can we get bread?"

He took up the passes and looked at them. His face lightened. 

"This one, " he said, turning to another, "is written--Give them bread tothe value of three francs. We will give them three francs. "

"No you won't, " said we; "you'll give us bread. You cannot leave theseEnglish sisters to starve. "

After some grumbling he said we could inquire at the "first army. " Wemade him write out an order; we also made him give us a clerk toaccompany us. He gave us a tattered old man whose toes were stickingfrom his boots. 

We presented both orders at the "first army. " It refused at once. Wethreatened it with the War Office and with the mayor. After some demurit sent us across the town again to the "magazine" office. 

At the magazine office we were more wily. We presented our little orderfor three humble loaves. He first said "Nema, " then admitted that therewas bread and that we could have it. We then showed the order for theother loaves. 

"No, no, " he cried, "you cannot have all that bread. "

We pointed out that it was not much for a whole mission. He stillrefused. So Jo got up and made a little speech. It was a nasty littlespeech, but they deserved it, for we had found that they had bread. 

She pointed out that the English Missions had now been working in Serbiafor a year, gratis; that no matter if we got no transport we were goingto get to England, and that it would not look well in the English papersif we wrote a true account of our experiences, saying that they hadallowed the English Missions to starve. The threat of publicity finishedhim. He grumbling consented to give us ten loaves in addition to our ownto last for two days. Not daring to leave them, and to send an orderlyfor them, we rolled them up in Jo's overcoat and staggered down the roadto the hospital. 

On the way we met an old Serbian peasant woman. She walked for a whilewith us, turning her eyes to heaven and crying--

"What times we live in. Only God can help, only God. "

At the hospital we met Sir Ralph Paget. He told us that the TransportBoard had promised him ten ox carts for the morrow. Two large motorlorries had turned up to take the two contingents of the "Stobarts. "They were packing in, and we asked them to take our holdall as far asRashka, for we were still distrustful of the ox carts. We had begun toget into a habit of not believing in anything till it was actuallythere. 

An Englishman came suddenly in with a face purple with anger andswearing. He was the dispenser from Krag who had been left at Lapovo tobring on the stores. 

"What's the matter?" we cried. 

"Brought my motor from Lapovo with the hospital stuff, " he saidfuriously. "Left it out there on the road. Came in here to tell youabout it; and when I go back the cussed thing isn't there. Found all thestores in a beastly bullock cart. The people said that a Serb officerhad come along, turned all our stuff out, and gone off with the motor. ** * *. "

There was nothing to be done, so we went on packing. An aeroplane wasseen in the distance; everybody watched it. 

"Taube, " said somebody. 

The Taube sailed slowly round, surveying the town. It passed rightoverhead. Everybody stared upwards wondering if it were going to "bomb, "for we were just opposite to the railway station. But it passed over andflew away. As it went guns fired at it, and many of the Serbs let offtheir rifles. We have often wondered where all the bits of the shells goto, for nobody ever seems to be hit by them, even when they are burstingright overhead. 

The motor gave several snorts, everybody climbed aboard. The driver letin the clutch, there was a tearing sound from underneath, but the motordid not go. One of the drivers clambered down, and after examinationsaid that it could not go on that day, and they immediately began totake it to pieces. The aeroplane came back twice, sailing to and frowithout hindrance. 

[Illustration: PEASANT WOMEN LEAVING THEIR VILLAGE. ]

[Illustration: SERB FAMILY BY THE ROADSIDE. ]

It is impossible to describe properly the feeling in the town: it waslike standing in the influence of high-pressure electricity, even in thedaytime the soldiers in their rags--but with barbarously coloured rugsand knapsacks--were sleeping in the hedges and gutters. There were vaguerumours that Rumania and Greece had finally joined in; many seized uponthese statements as being true, and one found little oases of rejoicingsamongst the almost universal pessimism. We ourselves doubted thereports. Sir Ralph's ox carts--in an interview with Churchin--dwindleddown to a possible two; but Jan got a letter in the evening saying thatthere were ten country carts for the next morning. Six were for us andfour for the "Stobarts, " and that we were to take the Indian tents withus. 

We went back to the tents early to get a good start next day. Rogersonand Willett were sorting their clothes. Hamilton had decided, as hecould not walk, to go back to Vrntze with the Red Cross stores whichPaget was sending to the hospital. As we were turning in, Dr. Holmesarrived. He had not got the seat in the motor, but was going next day. Later two mud-bespattered figures came in. They were West and Mawson. 

We questioned them eagerly, and although they were worn out theyanswered all they could. 

The road was passable. They had scarcely slept for four days, Mitrovitzawas already crammed with fugitives, and rooms were not to be found. Onthe way back the motor was working badly; the mud was awful. Then thepetrol ran out. They stopped a big car which was loaded with petrol andammunition, and asked for some. They got a little, and as they weregoing to start the big car suddenly burst into flames: some fool havingstruck a match to see if the petrol was properly turned off. Greatflames roared up into the air, and it was a long time before the carwas sufficiently burnt down to pass it. 

West said that it was a most marvellous picture. 

A little farther on a tyre had burst, and they had been forced to comeback on the rims. They eagerly welcomed Jan's idea of the Novi Bazarroute, feeling sure that if they once got to Mitrovitza it would be longbefore they got away, and very doubtful if they could get lodging there. 

Again we could hear the guns in the night, and news had come in thatKrag had been occupied and that the German cavalry were making towardsKralievo. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FLIGHT OF SERBIA

The men were up before three-thirty to strike the tents, having sleptbut little. Breakfast was prepared and waiting at five-thirty in the bighospital bedroom; but the women ate of it alone. 

Jo sallied forth to the camp, anxious to know what had happened. Shefound a testy little company. For two hours they had been struggling inthe dark with tents and waiting for the carts and for a policeman, asall the riff-raff of the town was gathering to loot our leavings. 

At last the carts were run to earth standing outside the hospital in aline--ten little springless carts in charge of a stupid-looking corporalwho had misunderstood his orders. He moreover refused to move, saying he"had his orders. "

The indefatigable Churchin was found, and sent him off with a flea inhis ear. When he arrived at the camp we found a woman and householdluggage in one of the carts. He said it was his wife, and objected toour putting anything into that cart. We told him he would have to lumpit, and he got sulky; as each extra package was put on a cart he saidthat it would break to pieces. Certainly the tents were very heavy, butwe had been ordered to take them. When the carts were loaded up to thelast degree they moved slowly through the mud and drew up at thehospital. We were sadly overladen. Our party consisted of Mawson, West, Cutting, Rogerson, Willett, Blease, Angelo, Whatmough, Elmer, Owen, andHilder--the last four being our friends of the railway journey fromNish. We were thirteen. Temporarily with us also were the two littleAustro-Serbian boys. The other four carriages were occupied by a doctorand three members of the Stobart unit, two "Scottish Women, " theirorderly and a Russian medical student who had been a political prisoner. 

Leaving the town was a slow business, as it was being evacuated. Ourlittle procession proceeded very slowly. Most of us walked. Jo drovewith two of the Stobarts, watching from a seat of vantage the packedmasses of people who wormed their way in and out between the ox carts. The road was blocked by some gigantic baking ovens on wheels. Hundredsof boys, big seventeen-year-old boys with guns, and little limpingfellows from thirteen to sixteen, wearing bright rugs rolled over theirshoulders, were dragging along in single file. Their faces were white, and their noses red, sergeants were beating the backward ones along witha ramrod. One of them said--

"I have eaten nothing for three days--give me bread. " We had no bread, but we discovered some Petit-Beurre biscuits, and left him turning themover and over. 

The whole town buzzed: motor cars, surrounded by curses, insinuatedtheir way through the crammed streets; whips were cracking, men werequarrelling but all had their faces turned towards the road to Rashka, which we realized would be as full as at straphanging time in the Tube. The boys passed us, then we passed them. They passed us again. Hundredsof Austrian prisoners were being hurried along, goodness knows where. Neat young clerks, suit case in hand, elbowed their way through thecrowd. Young staff officers were walking, jostled by beggars. Jo calledto an old man who was driving a cart full of modern furniture, his facedrawn into wrinkles of misery--

"Where are you going?"

"Ne snam, " he answered, staring hopelessly before him. 

Wounded men were everywhere, tottering and hobbling along, for nonewanted to be taken prisoners. Some had ship's biscuit, which they triedto soften in the dirty ditch water, others were lapping like dogs outof the puddles. Sometimes a motor far ahead stuck in the mud, and we hadto wait often half an hour until it could be induced to move. Gipsiespassed, better mounted and worse clad than other folk, some of them halfnaked. Many soldiers had walked through their opankies and their feetwere bound up with rag. Why in this country of awful mud has the opankiebeen invented? It is a sole turned up at the edges and held on by aseries of straps and plaited ornamentations useless in mud or wet, whichpenetrates through it in all directions. 

We arrived at an open space and halted for lunch. Water had to befetched. It trickled from a wooden spout out of the hill and before ourcooking pot was filled we were surrounded by thirsty soldiers, who wereconsigning us to the hottest of places for our slowness. Cuttingdisplayed a hitherto buried talent for building fires. We unpacked thefood and soon a gorgeous curry was bubbling in an empty biscuit tin withAngelo, Sir Ralph Paget's chef, at the spoon. A leviathan motor carlurched by containing all that was left of the Stobart unit. Anothermonster passed, piled with Russian nurses and doctors. A face waspeeping out at the back, eyes rolled upwards, moustaches bristling. Wasit? Yes, it was--"Quel Pays"--but he did not recognize us. 

[Illustration: THE FLIGHT OF SERBIA. ]

The baking ovens appeared again, and we felt we had stayed long enough. Some of our party were very fagged after their various adventures sinceleaving Nish, so they climbed on to the carriages wherever there was adownhill. The road wound up a narrow stony valley down which was flowinga muddy stream. The trees on our side of the river were still green, onthe other bank they were bright orange, blood red and all the tints of aSerbian autumn. The road full of moving people was like another river, flowing only more sluggishly then the Ebar itself. For us in future, theautumn will always hold a sinister aspect. These trees seemed to haveput on their gayest robes to mock at the dreary processions. Atintervals by the roadside sat an ox dead beat and forsaken by its owneras useless. 

Dusk came, bringing depression; the travellers on the curly road lookedlike mere shades. Coat collars went up and hands were pocketed. Littlecamp fires began to twinkle here and there on the hillsides. We came toa large open space where many fires blazed, respectfully encircling aFrench aeroplane section. Opposite was a high peak topped by a Turkishcastle. There we wished to halt, but the corporal said we must push on, as he wished to get food for the horses. After we had passed the castlethe dusk grew rapidly darker and the road narrower and more muddy. Although camp fires twinkled from every level space, the never endingstream of fugitives seemed to grow no less. Darkness only added to thetragic mystery of the flight. The bullock carts poured along, thesoldiers crowded by. 

A horse went down, the owner stripped the saddle off, flung it into acart and cursing stumbled on into the darkness. The carts following tookno notice of the poor horse but drove over it, the wheel lifting as theyrolled across its body. We shouted to the owner; but he was gone, so weturned one or two of the carts off, and made them go round. But we couldnot stay there all night. The horse was too done, and too much injuredby the cruel passage to move, so Jan reluctantly pulled out his"automatic" and, standing clear of its hoofs, put two bullets throughits brain. It shuddered, lifted two hoofs and beat the air and sank intoa heap. 

On we went progressing for mile after mile in the mire, but never ahouse did we see, nor a spot to camp on. At last the corporal gave upthe quest for hay, and we were faced with the problem of spending thenight on a narrow road bounded on one side by cliffs beneath which ranthe Ebar, and on the other by an almost perpendicular bank. The nightwas black, the mud a foot deep, and a stream ran across the road. Thecarriages drew up in single file and we discussed the sleeping problem, while Cutting cooked bovril on an ill-behaved Primus stove. Our drivershad to sleep on the carts. The women also had carts to sleep in; and theScottish women offered Jo a place in their already well-filled carriage. The men were fitted somehow into the rest of the carts, while Jo, Jan, and Blease found a ledge below the road, and though it was verysquelchy, they spread a mackintosh sheet and rolled up on it in theirrugs. 

No sooner were they really settled and sleeping than a voice said, "You'll have to get up: an officer says the carriages must move on--theKing is coming. " It was West. We sat up. Between us and the dim lightsof the carts the black shadows of the crowds passed without end. 

"I'll go and talk to them, " said Jo; and unrolled herself, struggled andfumbled with her boots and floundered into the blackness, where amounted officer was delivering orders. Shouts could be heard, lightswaved, horses whinnied, splashing their feet in the puddles as they werebeing violently pulled here and there, and our poor little carts weremoving ahead into obscurity. Jo told him they were a Red Crossparty--that the carts were small, and couldn't they stay where theywere? The officer inspected the poor little carts, made his best bow, and said, "Yes, they can stay. "

But the corporal did not listen to Jo's orders. He belonged to a countrywhich rates women and cattle together, and the carts moved relentlesslyon. With difficulty Jo found the ledge again on which Jan was sittingwith the rugs, talking to the scenery in a manner which was not pretty. 

Blease came up, and the three of us shouldered the things and stumbledoff to find the vanished carriages, which were half a mile down theroad. Jan flung his baggage on to somebody and soundly boxed thecorporal's ears, calling him a "gloop. " Instantly the corporal felt that"here was a man he could really understand, " and from that moment becamea devoted adherent, studying our slightest whim, and at intervals humblylaying walnuts before us. 

A man came up to Jan. 

"I believe that man is drunk, " said he; "I said that your carts mightstand. "

"Who are you?" said Jan. 

"I was once the conductor of the Crown Prince's orchestra, " he said;"now I am traffic superintendent. It is difficult. I had a horse, ajolly little brown horse, but he gave out and I had to leave him behindon the road. " There were tears in the man's voice. "He was a goodhorse, but it was too hard for him. Now I have to walk. "

"I shot your horse, " said Jan. "They were driving over its body. "

"He was a nice horse, " said the man again, "a nice horse, and now I haveto walk. Well, good-bye, you can rest here. "

He splashed away in the mud. 

Our new sleeping place was worse: the mud was deeper, the road narrower. Jo tried to escape the mud and made for the roadside, but the groundmoved under her and some muttered curses arose. She was walking not ongrass but on crowds of sleeping boys, and very nearly trod on a face. Wesettled down again on our mackintosh sheet but did not sleep. Somesoldiers were firing off guns and throwing bombs into the river allnight. Near us lay Owen, who coughed for a couple of hours, after whichhe gave up the spot as being too wet, and lay in a cart on Whatmough'sface. 

It rained, Jo had the fidgets, and Jan expostulated. The mackintosh wastoo small for us and we got gloriously wet. It is a curious feeling--therain pattering on one's face when trying to sleep. By the time onebecomes accustomed to the monotony of the tiny drops--_splash_ a bigdrop from a tree. Water collects in folds of hat or rug, and suddenlycascades down one's neck. 

At four in the morning the corporal crept up submissively to ask if wemight move on, as the horses were cold and hungry. Only too glad, darkas it was, we rolled up our damp bundles and put them in the waggonswith the sleeping people, who awoke, pink-eyed and puzzled at the suddenprogress forward of their uncomfortable beds. Whatmough, who wasconvinced that the bombs and gunshots of the night before were spentAustrian shells sailing over the hill, said--

"That's the first time I've ever liked a fellow sleeping on my face. "

One of the Stobart nurses, who had used the remains of the hay as apillow, had been awake all night trying to prevent a hungry horse fromeating her hair along with the hay. With determination she had donned aBalaklava helmet and trudged along all day in it, even later when thesun came out. Blease, too, started the chillsome dawn in a Balaklavawearing shawlwise a rug that had been made of bits of various colouredwoollen scarfs. Jan used as a protection from the rain Jo's whitemackintosh apron filleted round his head with a bit of string anddangling behind with a profusion of tapes and fasteners. 

Under his khaki great-coat and about a foot longer he wore a whitejaconet hospital coat. Jo had a pair of roomy ski boots into which shehad fitted two pairs of stockings; one had been knitted for her by aSerbian girl, and they were so thick and hard that no suspender wouldhold them up, so they stood, concertinawise, over the boots. One of ourdrivers, a witch-faced old man, had a dark red cloak with a peaked hood;and West having lost his hat had donned a Serbian soldier's cap, whichhe was taking away as a curiosity. His arm was giving him pain. It wasvery red and inflamed and no one knew what was the matter with it. 

We travelled for an hour or so, and then everything on the road came toa standstill--something was in the way. Half an hour passed, nothing wasdone. Several miles of drivers were talking, gesticulating, andblaspheming; so Jan took on the job of traffic superintendent, and aftera time, with a little backing here and twisting there, the problem wassolved and we moved on. Still no hay stations could be found, and wewere also hungry, having had no breakfast. We passed a mound coveredwith thousands of Austrian prisoners waking up in the twilight. Anotherhill was black with boys. Still no station. Then we saw some haystacksbeing taken to pieces by various drivers. Our ten coachmen ran to thestacks and came back with loads of hay which they packed in the carts. In five minutes the haystacks existed no more. 

"Better not leave that good hay for the Swobs, " said the corporal, as hewhipped up the horses. We passed a dressing-station. It was a sort oflaager of ox carts over which flew the red cross. Wounded soldiers weresitting and lying on the grass everywhere, while doctors and nurses werehurrying to and fro with bandages and lint. 

Water was difficult to find. At last we stopped at the top of a hill ina furious wind. The water which we got from a stream looked filthy, butwe boiled it thoroughly in a biscuit tin, and Angelo again presided overa magnificent curry filled with bully beef, while we hit our toes on theground to keep warm. A wounded soldier was brought up by a friend. Hehad not been attended to for days, and we did the best we could for him. 

A carriage passed laden with two tiny boxes--a policeman on either side. Although the boxes were small the carriage seemed so heavy that thehorses could scarcely drag it, and two well-dressed men who were ridingon the carriage often had to get out and push. We wondered if the boxeswere filled with gold. The dreary processions of starving boys shuffledup again; some were crying, some helping others along, one had anEnglish jam tin hanging round his neck. Sir Ralph Paget appeared in amotor car, loaded with packages and three other people. We stopped him, and he told Jan that at Novi Bazar he could get no information of thepath which Jan suggested, and added that he advised us to come toMitrovitza. The Scottish women were to give up the idea of adressing-station in Novi Bazar and to stop at Rashka. The Serbs had toldhim that there was a good chance of Uskub being retaken, in which casewe could all go comfortably to Salonika by rail. In the other case, there were three roads out of the country from Mitrovitza, which hethought better than trusting to one road, if it existed. 

Jan told him that the carriages were giving way under the strain of thetents, two of the axle struts having broken; and he suggested that if wedid not jettison the tents, some of the carriages would probably neverget as far as Rashka. Sir Ralph told him to do what he thought best. 

So we pitched the two heavy tops and the long bamboo poles overboard, keeping the sides. 

"Oh, what are you doing with our tents?" said one of the Scottishnurses. 

This was complicated! We understood the tents were Sir Ralph's. 

All the men swore they were Sir Ralph's tents, they had seen them atNish. The "Scottish Woman" said she knew the tents well, and they hadcost £50 each. The men from Nish still claimed the tents, and said thatwar was war and they had left thousands of pounds' worth of stores, tents, etc. , and had been obliged to discard even motor cars. 

"And very extravagant it was of you, " she said. 

Jan pointed out that if we did not leave the tents we should veryshortly have to discard both tents and carts, which would be even moreextravagant. 

She reluctantly cheered up, and we drove away in the sunshine. Before weturned the corner we could see an excited mass of soldiers, peasants, and boys rushing to the tents with their clasp knives. Perhaps, ascoverings, they saved many people's lives on the cold nights to come. 

[Illustration: RETREATING AMMUNITION TRAIN. ]

More and more exhausted oxen were to be seen lying by the roadside. Ahuge cart drove over one. We all arose in our seats, horrified--but theold ox was all right, still chewing the cud. Over the cliff lay thesmashed remains of a cart--its owners were flaying the dead horse. Apeasant with bowed head led his cart past us. Drawing it was one ox--itspartner was in the cart, lifting its head spasmodically--finished. Quantities of carts passed us filled with furniture, baths, andluggage. A smartly dressed family was picnicking by the roadside, sitting on deck-chairs. Colonel P---- and Admiral T---- slipped by in ashabby little red motor. They stopped and told us they were going toRashka. It was good to see English faces again. A familiar figure wentby. It was the brave young officer from Uzhitze. We gave a lift to afootsore lieutenant, who laughed as we trudged in the mud. 

"Ah, English and sport, " he said. 

Crowds were congregated round a man who was carrying over his shoulder awhole sheep on a spit and chopping bits off for buyers. On a hillside awoman was handing out rakia. We thought she was selling it, but weretold that it was a funeral and she was giving rakia to all who wantedit. Starving Austrian prisoners rushed for a glass and were not refused. The Crown Prince passed, touching his hat to fifty kilometres of hispeople. This time we were not going to be caught by the darkness, so westopped near a village at half-past three. The sides of the two tentsmade good shelters for us. They were set up, looking like two longcard-houses, and we used bits of canvas for flooring, very necessary, asit was so wet. Our fires were quickly made with superfluous tent pegs, and the rice bag was again drawn forth. A groaning soldier withbloodstained bandage asked us to help him. His arm had not been dressedfor some time. The doctor with us at first thought he had better not betampered with; but finally agreed to look at his wound, which wasbleeding violently. 

She tore up a towel and bound him up tightly. He said he was going toStudenitza, a long day's walk, though he was nearly fainting. 

On the hill opposite was a huge encampment of boys. As the darkness grewall disappeared but the light of the fires. It looked like an ancientbattleship with the portholes on fire. We slept, the women fairlycomfortably, but the men were overcrowded. 

Heavy rain came on and poured through the top of the card houses. 

"Now I know what the men suffer in the trenches, " said a very younggirl, when she awoke in a pool of water. 

"Guess you don't--they'd call this clover, " said a sleepy voice. 

Looking our oddest we trudged off in the gloom and wet of next morning, leaping across rivulets of water which hurtled down the roads. West'sarm was worse, Willett was recovering from a bad chill, Mawson had notyet got a decent night's rest for a week--every one longed for a house. 

"Dobra Dan, " said a voice. It was the friend of the wounded man we hadbound up the first day. 

"Where is your friend?" we asked. 

"I lost him, " he answered. 

We climbed for three hours then waited, blocked. A military motor hadstuck deeply in the mud and the wheels were buzzing round uselessly, sowe helped to dig her out. Every one's inside cried for breakfast, andwhen at last we found a swampy plain, Whatmough and Cutting flungthemselves upon an old tree trunk and cut it up for firewood. 

We always had "company" to these picnic meals, hungry soldiers, mereragbags held together by bones, crept around us and learnt for the firsttime the joys of curry and cocoa. 

As we came round the corner into sight of the town a large block oftemporary encampments stretched away beyond the river to our left. Beyond them was a flat plain on which was a large tent with a red crosspainted over it. High behind the town towered a grey hill on which was awhite Turkish blockhouse, for though where we were driving had alwaysbeen Serbia, Rashka lay just on the boundary. We drove into a narrowstreet, presently coming to a stop where two motor cars blocked theway. 

The Commandant from Kragujevatz, who had promised transport to allEnglish hospitals, was standing on the road. He seemed very flusteredand bothered lest we should want him to do something for us. We assuredhim we wanted nothing except bread, for neither we nor our drivers hadhad bread for three days. The colonel shrugged his shoulders and made aface. 

"You might get it perhaps at the hospital. "

Another officer, in a long black staff coat, laughed. He pulled a hardbiscuit out of each pocket, looked at them fondly and pushed them backagain. 

"I've got mine anyway, " he said. "Bread is ten shillings a loaf if youcan buy it. "

Annoyed by the colonel's manner Jo began to mount her high horse andbecame blunt. He was instantly suave. 

He seemed dismayed at our idea (to which we still held) of going to NoviBazar before Mitrovitza to see if really no route existed there. 

"Impossible, " said he; "bridges are broken between Rashka and NoviBazar, and there is no route through the mountains from there. "

We remembered that the country had been under Turkish rule there yearsbefore, and guessed that probably the Serbs had not yet been able toexploit new and lonely routes. At every side in the streets were faceswe knew, the head medical this and the chief military that. 

Our personal carts went off in charge of the corporal, who was lookingfor bread from the Government, for of course all bread shops were shutpermanently. 

The Scottish sisters had not found a refuge, and messengers kept oncoming back saying this place was full and that place had no room. 

Colonel G---- became even less likable. It seemed as though there wereno organisation of any kind in the town. At last, when dark had wellfallen, a man said a room had been cleared for them in the hospital. Themotor cars moved slowly off and we told the rest of our carts to follow, as Colonel G----said we might get bread at the same place. We stumbledafter them through pitch black streets, so uneven that one did not knowif one were in the ditch or on the road itself; one lost all sense ofdirection and only tried not to lose sight of the flickering lights ofthe carts. Jo at last climbed into one, and the carts rumbled over awooden bridge and began to go up a steep hill. We came suddenly to arambling wooden house and our carts dived into a deep ditch. Jo leaptoff just in time to save hers from turning right over. Crowds of woundedSerbians were standing at the foot of a rickety outside staircase. Abovewas a dressing-station, and a dark smelly room with no beds, which wasto be the sisters' home. We could get no bread and so went out once moreinto the dark. We did not know where our carts had gone, but some onesaid if we went in "that" direction we should find them. On we wentuphill, losing our way in a maize field. In front of us were hundreds ofcamp fires. At the first we asked if they had seen the English. Theyshrugged their shoulders in negative. We asked at the next; same result. We had the awful thought that we should have to search every camp firebefore we found our people, but luckily almost fell over Mawson, who hadbeen fetching water. We were going in quite the wrong direction and butfor this lucky meeting might have wandered for hours. 

A good fire was blazing in front of the tents. An Austrian prisoner cutwood for us in exchange for a meal. He came from a large encampmentwhose fires were blazing near by. Dr. Holmes and a sister emergedthrough the smoke; they had at last got a cart and horse. With them wasan Austrian subject flying for his life. He had lived for years inSerbia, his sympathies and ancestry were Serbian, but if the Austriansgot him he would be hanged. We wondered if it was the husband of thefrantic woman at Kralievo, but did not ask. 

One went early to bed these nights. The men spread out into twocard-houses while Jo was hospitably given a real camp-bedstead in acorner of the Stobarts' kitchen, on the floor of which slept their menand also West, whose arm was getting worse. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIX

NOVI BAZAR

We awoke to find where we were. The little encampment which we had seento our left on entering the town, was now far on our right. The flatplain--where was the large tent with the red cross painted over it--hadbeen our bed, the tent behind us; to our right was the brown hill toppedby the old Turkish blockhouse; and in front a cut maize field with itssolid red stubble sloped directly to the river, beyond which lay thevillage massed on the opposite slope up to a white church. Immediatelybelow us on the river edge were the roofs of the "Stobarts'" refuge andof the Scottish women's hospital. Poplar trees in all the panoply ofautumn sprang up from the valley with their tops full of the blackestcrows, who cawed discordantly at the dawn. Our fire had gone out, butthe Austrian had left enough wood, another was quickly started; but wefound that Angelo in making his curries had melted all the solder fromthe empty biscuit tins and not one would hold water. So there was ahurried transference of biscuits from a whole one. 

From where we sat sipping our cocoa, we could see the hurried coming andgoing of motors in the main square, and groups of bullock waggons andsoldiers about the fence of the church. A great street which split thevillage in two from top to bottom--the old Turkish frontier--was almostempty. The corporal proposed to visit the military commandant in searchof hay and bread. So Jan dragged on his wet boots and set off with himdown the hill, collecting Jo from the "Stobarts" on the way. 

We crossed the rickety wooden bridge, passed between the _alfresco_encampments--like travelling tinkers--of waggoners and soldiers whichlined the roads, up the great frontier street and so into the square. All that now was SERBIA was concentrated in this little village. Privatehouses had suddenly become ministries; cafés, headquarters; and shops, departmental offices. The square was the central automobile station, andcars under repair or adjustment were in every corner. Beneath the churchpaling a camp of waggoners had a large bonfire and were cooking a wholesheep on a spit. Austrian prisoners with white, drawn faces werewandering about, staring with half unseeing eyes; a Serbian soldier waschewing a hard biscuit, and a prisoner crept up to him begging for acorner of the bread; the soldier broke off a piece and gave it to him. 

About the gate of the commandant's office were gathered Serbs andAustrians all waiting for bread. We pushed our way in. The hay wasquickly arranged, but the bread was another matter. 

"We have no bread, " said the commandant. 

"But, " we objected, "all those men waiting outside. They would not comehere if you had no bread. "

The commandant pulled his moustache. 

"We have bread only for soldiers. "

There was a sudden commotion outside. The door was burst open; twosoldiers entered dragging with them a man--a peasant; his eyes werestaring, his face blanched. We then noticed that he was holding hisshoulders in a curious manner, and realized that his arms were boundwith his own belt. The two soldiers pushed him into an inner room, butthe officials were busy, so he was stood in a corner. 

"What has he done?" we asked. 

"We have only bread for soldiers, " repeated the commandant. Bread wasevidently the most important. 

"We have a Government order. "

He scanned it, pounced upon the three franc phrase and offered us money. We pointed out that bread was indicated to the value--

"We have no bread for the English, " he said at last. 

Jo once more made the nasty little speech which we had found soeffective at Kralievo. It worked like a charm. An enormous sack filledwith loaves was dragged out and from it he choose three. We mentionedthe man once more. The commandant shrugged his shoulders. 

"He's going to be killed, " he said. "Some soldiers looted his yard andhe shot one. "

He then asked the corporal if he would take flour instead of bread. Thecorporal agreed, adding that in that case, of course, they would get abit more. 

"Of course, you won't, " said the commandant. 

We sent the corporal back to the camp with the loaves, and with a littletrouble found the house where Colonel P---- and Admiral T----hadlodgings. It was a gay little cottage, and both were at breakfast. Theywelcomed us and generously offered us their spare eggs, though eggs werescarce. The admiral had a large-scale map--made, of course, byAustria--and we hunted it for our road. Paths were marked quite clearly, and houses at most convenient intervals. It seemed a far superior pathto the Ipek pass, both regarding shelter and length. 

"But, " we said, "Sir Ralph suggests that we go to Mitrovitza, becausethe Serbs say that Uskub will fall in a few days. "

"I should get out of the country as soon as you can, " said one. 

"It is exceedingly unlikely that Uskub can fall, " said the other. Butthey promised us as definite information as they were allowed to give ifwe would return for tea, by when the aeroplane reconnaissance shouldhave come in. 

We went back to the camp with the news. 

Colonel G---- came up and tried to wipe out the impression which he hadmade the evening before. He repeated that Uskub must certainly fallwithin the week, and that we should be very silly to go off to NoviBazar, which we could never reach because the bridge had been washedaway. 

All the hill behind was crowded with Austrian prisoners. They hadreceived one loaf between every three men, and said that it had to lastthree days. They did not know where they were going. Blease went throughtheir lines, and at last found an old servant--a Hungarian. He was astoic. 

"One lives till one is dead, " said he. 

The hospital was doing a brisk trade in wounded: sisters and doctorsboth hard at work. The "Stobarts" were resting, and had built a campfire outside the door of their hovel. We got lunch ready, ruiningrecklessly another biscuit tin. While we were eating it a Serb camenear. 

"I am starving, " he said. 

We gave him some curry and rice. He devoured it. 

"To-morrow, " he said, "I go back to commando. "

We pointed to his hand, which was bound in dirty linen. 

"But?"

"It is better to go back though wounded than be starved to death. "

We also held a court of justice. A driver complained that one of theEnglishmen had given him a pair of boots and that the corporal had takenthem. 

"CORPORAL!!"

He came grinning. We exposed the complaint. 

"Certainly the man had a pair of boots, " said he; "but he has them nolonger. Now, they are mine, I have taken them. "

"But they were given to him. "

"But I have taken them. I needed new boots. " He exhibited his own, whichwere split. 

We told him that possession by capture was not recognized in our circle, and ordered immediate restitution. He agreed gloomily, no doubt feelingthat the foundations of his world were falling about his ears, and whatwas the use of being a corporal anyway?

In the afternoon we sought out the motor authorities, finding our oldfriends Ristich and Derrok in command. They easily promised us transportfor Sir Ralph Paget's box and henchmen--no trouble at all they said. Yethad we not known them personally we might have waited a month withouthelp. One is irresistibly reminded at every turn that the Near Eastmeans the East near the East and not the East near the West. 

We went to the English colonel's, but no news was yet forthcoming, andwe were, after a jolly tea, invited back at eight. 

The camp was in darkness by the time we reached it once more. The firelit up the men sitting about it, and the two inverted V's of the tententrances; very faintly behind could be seen the outline of the line oflittle tented waggons. We had collected an additional member, MissBrindley of the "Stobarts. " She was very keen to get home, as herparents were anxious, and both her brothers at the front. Jo gave onelook at her and said "Certainly. " She had rushed immediately into thetown and had laid in a stock of beans and lentils, as her contributionto the common stock. They were all she could buy. 

After supper back to the colonel's, and at last got definite news. Itwas unlikely that Skoplje would fall, and very little use loitering inhopes. The colonel advised Jan to get his party out by the best routepossible, and we took a grateful farewell. 

Coming back to the camp Jan had a nasty half-hour. Should we go byMitrovitza, or should we go by Berane? In the first case there was thelong route, the difficulty of getting lodgings and of transport, therisk of falling behind the Serbian General Staff, and of finding thecountry bare, the high passes of Petch and the snow; Willett was onlyjust recovering from a bad chill, West's arm had grown much worse, andhad been operated on in the morning by a doctor with a pair of scissors_faute de mieux_--a most agonizing process. On the other hand, theBerane route was unknown to the authorities, and might have fallen sointo decay that it was useless; we did not know where the Austro-Germanswere, and they might be already on the outskirts of Novi Bazar; if anyof us fell ill we should certainly be captured. It was a toss up. Finally he asked the others. They said--

"What you think best. You know the country. "

We finally decided to go to Novi Bazar and make inquiries. If there wereno road we could go thence to Mitrovitza, and would only have lost aday. If, as the colonel said, the bridge was washed away, we couldprobably ford the river. 

Then to bed. One could not sleep really well, for the rugs did not givesufficient warmth, and the chill striking up from the ground penetratedeverything. 

Took the road to Novi Bazar next day. Miss Brindley joined us with aparcel of blankets and a knapsack and a mackintosh lent by a friend. Shehad lost her boots, or the local cobbler had lost them, but mostappropriately a motor had arrived and on it was a pair of new soldier'sboots unclaimed. She took them, cut the feet of a pair of indiarubberWellingtons and pulled them over her stockings, and put a smile on herface which never came off in spite of any fatigue. 

Hilder and Antonio went off with Sir Ralph's box. The "Stobarts" wishedus good luck, and away we clattered over the rickety bridge, up throughthe town and out into the Novi Bazar road. The surface was fairly good, and the day turned brilliant. We had left the six sisters and theirluggage behind with their respective units, and so had four extrawaggons to carry our stuff. We rattled along cheerily, only dismountingat the occasional patches of mud which we met. 

After a while we decided to lunch. We came to a café and halted. 

"Have you coffee?" we asked. 

"Ima. "

"Will you give us all coffee?"

"We have no sugar, " said the hostess; so we had no coffee. 

We got out a tin of biscuits and lunched on those. As we were passingthem round a soldier stopped. 

"What are you selling those for?" he asked, under the impression that wewere a travelling shop. We gave him some, to his great astonishment. 

On we went again. Down below us in a field the corporal spotted ahayrick. Like stage villains the coachmen clambered down the hill, eachwith a rope--spoil from the discarded tents. They attacked the rick andsoon nothing was left. As they staggered back, each hidden beneath anenormous load of hay--looking themselves like walking ricks--a Turk inblack and white clothes ran down from above furiously brandishing athree-pronged fork. 

"What are you doing?" he yelled. 

The corporal stood stiffly and said--

"It is war. We are the State. It is of no value for you to preach. "

The owner went dolefully down the hill, and stood looking at where hisstack had been. 

"We have again prevented those Germans from stealing good hay, " said thecorporal with satisfaction. Each cart looked not unlike a hay wainreturning from the fields, and we scrambled up on to the top feelinglike children in the autumn. After we had gone a mile we began to wonderwhy we had given the owner no compensation: evidently the corporal'sinfluence was turning us into scoundrels. 

At last the broken bridge. Only a shallow stream across which our cartssplashed joyfully. On the other side was a small church with a beautifulblue tower. And soon we were in the outskirts of Novi Bazar, the mostordinary town of the Sanjak, combining the dull parts of Plevlie withthe dull parts of Ipek. There was a stream down the middle of the road, in which some of the inhabitants were washing, while one sat on hishaunches holding up a small looking-glass with one hand and shavinghimself. 

We bustled off to the mayor's office. Found him as usual in a backstreet in a shabby office up shaky wooden stairs. The mayor knew nothingof any road to Berane; so baffled, we again found the street. We wentto the shabby Turkish shops of the bazaar and inquired. 

"Certainly, " said the shopkeepers, "a good path to Berane, and not high. No; not so high as that by Ipek. "

We returned to the mayor's office. He seemed little inclined to consent, and demanded to see our pass. Jo again made her little--but souseful--speech. The mayor called in an Albanian. After a longconsultation the mayor said that he had no horses. 

"Then we will take our carriage horses, " said we. 

"There are no roads for carriages, " said the mayor. 

"Then we will take the horses without the carriages. "

The mayor called in two more men: they considered the pass once more. 

"You may have the carriages two days more, " he decided at last. "Go toTutigne. As far as that the carriages will travel. There are many horsesthere, and you can get pack ponies. "

Coming out we ran into Colonel Stajitch of Valievo. The colonel is aSerbian gentleman, fine figure, beautiful face, and white hair andmoustaches. He greeted us, asked us our news. We told him of ourprojected journey. He became thoughtful and after a while said good-bye. We took our convoy through the town to a field on the outskirts wherewe pitched the camp. 

We borrowed the corporal's axe and hewed for some time in a thorn hedge, without getting much profit but many prickles, and finally decided totake a paling from a Turkish cemetery, for there was no one about. 

Soon we had a jolly fire, and Cutting and Whatmough got to work on thefood. Dr. Holmes turned up. He had arrived the day before and had foundlodgings in an inn. West's arm was still inflamed and very painful. Thedoctor looked at it and said it needed more incision. West and MissBrindley went off with him. 

An old ragamuffin wandered up with a loaf of maize bread. He offered itto the corporal for three dinars; but the corporal took it away and gavehim two. The old man made a great outcry. We demanded the cause. Theunlawful corporal was again hailed to justice, his corporalship seemingmore valueless than ever, and to give him a lesson we bought the breadfor three dinars, for it was worth it. 

We suddenly discovered that none of the Red Cross men had papers orpasses. What was to be done? We were conniving at an almost unlawfulexpedition, and Jan was very doubtful if we could cross the Montenegrinfrontier. But after a consultation we decided to bluff it intoMontenegro if necessary, and then telegraph to Cettinje to help us out. 

It was now dark and West and Miss Brindley had not come back. So Jan andJo went off to look for them. We searched two cafés--meeting again withour old acquaintance the schoolmaster from Nish--plunged into all sortsof odd corners, and at last met Colonel Stajitch in a restaurant. Hegreeted us. 

"I have a great favour to ask, " he said diffidently. "If I might Ishould like to give to you a little appendix. It is my son. He isseventeen, but is very big for his age. If the Austrians catch him I donot know what will become of him. "

We were introduced to the boy, and at once consented. 

"I will decide for certain to-morrow, " said the colonel. "Can I meet youat seven o'clock?"

We hunted once more for West. Ran him to earth at last in the Hotel deParis. This hotel could perhaps have existed in the Butte de Montmartre, but even there it would have been considered a disgrace. We had to passthrough a long room crammed with sleeping soldiery, stepping across themto get to the door opposite. Every window was tight shut, and after onehorrified gulp we held our breath till we reached the interiorcourtyard. Here, too, were sleeping men, and all along the balconies andpassages were more. 

We found Holmes' room. West was there, rather white and just recoveringfrom the anæsthetic. We sat down. Dr. Holmes had thought of coming withus, but the authorities had looked suspiciously at his passes, whichwere made out to Mitrovitza, so he decided to go on there. We wishedthat he had come, as a doctor would have been a great comfort had wereally needed him. 

After a rest West was well enough to go back to the camp. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XX

THE UNKNOWN ROAD

As we stood around the camp fire drinking our cocoa a queer ragged oldAlbanian crept up and watched us with a smile. He was the owner of thehouse near by, whose palings we had almost looted. We offered him cocoa, which he liked immensely; and asked him about the road to Tutigne. Hesaid--

"There is a road for carts--I know it. "

"Will you show it us?" said Jo. 

He gave a wild yell and ran away, waving a stick. 

"What ----?!!!! ----"

It was nothing, only the pigs had invaded his cabbage patch. He cameback later with an enormous apple, which he presented to Jo. 

"Have you apples for sale?"

He shook his head, saying "Ima, ima. "

We bought several pounds, arranged with him to guide us later to thecarriage road, and hurried into the town to buy provisions. 

There we met Colonel Stajitch. "Will you take my boy?"

"Delighted. Are his papers in order?"

The mayor hereupon turned up, and the colonel's face grew longer as theyconversed. 

"The mayor cannot give me the necessary permits without Governmentsanction, " he said. "I must get it from Rashka by telephone. It willtake an hour. Can you wait?"

We spent the time shopping. Each shop looked as empty as if it had beenthrough a Saturday night's sale. One had elderly raisins, another had afew potatoes. We found some onions, bought another cooking pot andkitchen necessaries, and packed them in the carts which had arrived inthe town. Nobody would take paper money unless we bought ten francs'worth. After waiting an hour and a half we hunted down the colonel. Thetelephone official told us he had got leave from the Government. At lastwe found him in the mayor's office, bristling with papers and thepassport. 

"I have got you an armed policeman as escort, " he said, waving thepapers, "and the boy has a good horse, twenty pounds in gold, and twentyin silver. "

We found the boy waiting with the carriages. He wore a strange littlebrown cashmere Norfolk jersey and very superior black riding breeches. Dressed more romantically he would have made an ideal Prince for anArabian Nights' story. His father accompanied us until our Albanianguide announced--

"Here begins the carriage road. "

Their parting must have been a hard thing. The father could not tell howhis son's expedition would end, and the son was leaving his father to anunknown fate. They embraced, smiling cheerily, and the boy rode on aheadof us all, blowing his nose and cursing his horse. 

In many places the "carriage road" was no road at all. The carts lurchedand bumped over rivers, boulders, fields, and the inevitable mud. Several times we had to jump on our carts as they dragged us over deepand rapid rivers. After three hours we stopped at a farm, our mountedpoliceman called out the owners and autocratically ordered two of theyoung men to accompany us as guides and guards. 

They came, bearing their guns, white fezzed, white clothed, blackbraided youths with shaven polls and flashing teeth. We began to climb, and for hours and hours we toiled upwards. The carriages lumberedpainfully far behind us, led by their elderly and panting drivers. 

"If this is what they call a good and easy road, " we thought, "it wouldhave been better to harness four horses to each cart, and to have leftfive carts behind. "

The horses came from the plain of Chabatz, and had probably never seen ahill in their lives. 

"These horses will die, " said the corporal; but he seemed moreinterested in hunting for water for himself than in the struggles of thepoor beasts. 

One of our Albanian guides was overwhelmed with the beauty of Cutting'ssilver-plated revolver. 

"How much did you pay for it?"

"Thirty francs, " said Cutting, shooting at the scenery. 

Jan produced his automatic, but the Albanian scorned it as one wouldturn from a lark to a bird of Paradise. He turned the glittering objectover lovingly, thought, felt in his pockets, drew out a green and redknitted purse, and shook his head. 

"I will give you thirty francs. "

But Cutting wasn't on the bargain. He pocketed the treasure again, andwe plodded on. 

"How far are we from Tutigne?" we asked. 

"Four hours, " said a dignified Albanian, who had joined our party. 

"No, two hours, " said another. 

"Three at most, " corrected a third. 

The first man lifted his hand. "I say four hours, and it is four hours. With such horses as these we crawl. "

We reached a desolate tableland at dusk. Here the horses halted for somewhile. With the halt came a sudden desire to stay there for good. Itseemed as if we should never reach Tutigne. The evening brought with itchilly damp breezes, and the footsore company was getting quitedisheartened. 

"Let us camp here, " said everybody. 

But the policeman had a mailbag to deliver that night, and we had topush on. Experienced as we were in Serbian roads, never had we seen suchmud. Down, down sank our feet, and we could only extract them againclinging to the carts with the sound of a violent kiss. We tried toescape it by climbing into the thick brushwood, only to find it again, stickier and more slippery, while the bushes grasped us with thorny armsand athletically switched our faces. A moonless darkness came upon usand we had to walk just behind the carriages, peering at the square yardof road illuminated by candles in our penny lanterns. 

Occasionally a voice greeted us. We asked how far Tutigne was. 

"About an hour, " was the invariable answer all along the line. 

But the dignified guide was right. After four hours we reached the mainstreet, arriving slowly to the music of incredible clatter as our littlecarts leapt and jolted over hundreds of big pointed stones laidcarefully side by side--Tutigne's concession to Macadam. 

There were faint lights in some of the little wooden houses. Othersstood dark and unfriendly. We stopped. Curses filled the air. An ox-cartwas lying right across the road. After shouting himself hoarse thepoliceman woke up an old man in a house near by--the owner. Herheumatically grumbled in his doorway; so the gendarme called ourAlbanians, and in two twos they had turned the cart upside down in aditch, saying--

"It serves you right. "

Voices sounded in the darkness. The carriages lurched on. Presently theyleft the road and turned on to grass, they seemed to be leaving thevillage behind. We did not know where they were going, and were so tiredthat we did not care, if only they would get somewhere and stop, whichat last they did. We jumped off into a squelch of water. 

"Good heavens, this won't do!"

We searched the whole field for a dry spot, but though it was ahillside, it was a swamp. We chose the least marshy place and built afire. 

"Where is the mayor?" we asked of the strange faces dimly to be seen inthe light of our fire. 

They pointed to two cottage window lights. We went towards them, atlast realizing our proximity by stumbling into a dung-heap and knockingagainst a pig-stye. There was a narrow stairway, and above it a biglanding. A man followed and knocked at a door for us. 

The mayor appeared--a little man--square in face, hair, beard andfigure. 

We explained ourselves and showed our letter. He looked grave at ourdemand for horses; said we would talk it over on the morrow, andsympathized about the swampy field. 

"Would you like to sleep here on the floor?" he said, showing us aclean-looking office. "We regret we have no beds. "

We were delighted. His wife, who had gone to bed, appeared in a stripedpetticoat and a second one worn as a shawl. 

"The tables shall be moved and the stove lit, " she said. "It will beready in a few minutes. "

We picked our way back to the fire, avoiding the dung-heap and pig-stye, whereby we nearly fell into a cesspool. Cocoa was brewing, onecard-house had been erected as a shelter for some of our things. Thedrivers were crouched round their own fire cooking something. It wasdifficult to find our bundles in the carts as one only recognized themby the drivers. We climbed in feeling about by the light of a match. Jofound a foot in one. 

"How can we find things with people lying on them?" she said to thefoot. 

It remained immobile; she pulled it--no response. She tugged it. A facelifted itself at the far end of the cart. It was the corporal's wifelying on her own possessions, very tired and rather cross. Jo patted herremorsefully and decamped. 

We must have looked like a regiment of gnomes bearing forbidden treasureas we hobbled through the darkness, laden with our bundles of blankets. The light in the office nearly blinded us, and the heat from the stovestruck us like a violent blow. The mayor, his wife, two hurriedlydressed children and several other people received us. There was anawkward silence. Jo murmured in the background--

"It is manners here to go up, shake hands, and say one's name. "

Very uncomfortably everybody did so, one by one. Another silence. Weracked our brains--the weather--our journey--the war. One had nothingsensible to say about anything. Jo asked the children's age. Theinformation was supplied. Silence. We filled the gap by smiling. At lastthe mayor's wife said we must be worn out, and they all left us. 

The mayor crept back. "Don't talk about the military situation, " hesaid; "if these Turks knew it they might kill us all. " Then he shut thedoor. 

We flew to a window and opened it, changed our stockings, hung wet bootsand socks over the stove, ate bully beef, and rolled up, pillowing ourheads on our little sacks--thirteen sleepy people. 

The mayor's wife opened the door an inch and peeped at us as we lay, looking, indeed, more like a jumble sale than anything. Mawson wore aBurglar cap tied under his chin, and a collection of khaki mufflers, looking equipped for a Channel crossing. Miss Brindley's head was tiedup in a bandana handkerchief; Jo's in a purple oilsilk hood; othersshared mackintosh sheets and blankets; West pulled his Serbian cap rightdown to his mouth. Jan put on the white mackintosh dressing-coat, overthat his greatcoat, then he spread out a red, green, yellow and blackstriped Serbian rug, rolled up in it with many contortions, and pushedhis feet into a tent bag. Blease in a Balaklava, showing nose like anArctic explorer, got into a black oilskin, one corner of which had beenrepaired with a large yellow patch, he then rolled up in oddmentscollected from the company, as his own overcoat had been stolen, andbound it all together by tying the many coloured knitted rug around him, after putting the lamp out inadvertently with his head. 

In the morning we interviewed the mayor. He read and reread the letterfrom the Novi Bazar mayor, took an interest in the social supremacy ofStajitch's father, who was a man of birth, but said he had no horses. 

Jo appealed to his better feelings. He scratched his head. 

"Yes, truly one must try to help the English, " he said, but looked veryglum. 

"I will have the neighbouring hamlets searched for horses. "

We thanked him and wandered into the village café. An old man with blacksprouting eye-brows à la Nick Winter, was sitting there. He had walkedfor five days, eating only apples. 

"Very good food too, " he said. "Here is my luggage. "

He pointed to a knotted handkerchief containing a tiny loaf of breadwhich he had just acquired. His goal was a monastery in Montenegro, where he said they would house and feed him for the winter in exchangefor a little work. 

At 11. 30 three horses were brought. Three more were promised, so wereluctantly decided to start the next day. There was nothing to do. 

Our carriages went. We gave the corporal a card-house to take back toRashka with little faith that he would not try to stick to it. He hadnot returned the boots to their owner, so we took them from him andgave them to their rightful owner, and handed over to the corporal aspare pair of our own boots to keep him honest. 

At dawn Stajitch, who had been sleeping in style upon a friend's table, came to say we had six horses, but a professor had turned up in thenight and was coming with us. He had been so exhausted with the walkthat his policeman had carried him most of the way. Not pleased, we wentto inspect him. He was small, corpulent, and was sitting with claspedwoolly gloves, goloshed feet, and a diffident smile. 

He explained to us that he was delicate, and as he was no walker itwould be necessary for him to ride one horse. So we packed our food, sacks, blankets, mackintoshes and the card-house as best we could on theremaining five horses. 

No sooner had we left the village, and all signs of road or bridle path, with a new policeman and two or three ragged Albanians, than one of thehorses broke loose and began to dance--first the tango, then the waltz. The pack, which was but insecurely attached, stood the tango, but withthe waltz a bag of potatoes swung loose at the end of a rope, itsgyroscopic action swinging the horse quicker and quicker until it wasspinning on one toe. Then the girths broke, saddle and all came to theground. The brute looked round as if saying "That's that, " and canteredoff, followed slowly by the professor on horseback. We called. Heappeared to take no notice. At last he turned round saying--

"The horse will not. "

Jo leapt in the air kicking. 

"Do that with your heels, " she said. 

But we had to send the policeman to help him. He rode hour by hour, hitting his beast with a bent umbrella, and lifting two fat hands toheaven. 

"Teshko" (It is hard), he whined. 

"_Ni_ je teshko" (It is not hard), said Miss Brindley, cheerfullytrudging along. 

We wanted to stop at the top of a hill for lunch. 

"Horrible, " he said. "Here the brigands will shoot us from the bushes, "and pushed ahead, being held on by the grinning policeman. 

We pulled out some biscuits and margarine, and drank water from ourbottles, cigarettes went round, and we charged ahead. In front was theprofessor falling off his horse and being put on again. 

We were very anxious about the frontier. Most of our party weretravelling without official permits, as they had known nothing aboutsuch things; but we hoped that being English Red Cross and havingpassports there would not be much trouble. We arrived at a littlevillage, three or four wooden houses. Three pompous old men came to meetus, and we took coffee together outside the inn. They were verysurprised to hear we were English, and said that no English had everpassed that way before. 

At the frontier, an hour further on, a man and his wife came down from alittle house on the hill and stopped us. They examined the papers of thetwo Serbs, but left us alone, to our huge relief. We breathed again. 

Soon after, however, Whatmough rushed up to Jan and Jo, who were talkingto a ragged woman. 

"Do come and talk. An officer has arrested West and Mawson. "

We ran ahead to find a perplexed mounted officer surrounded by ourparty. He had come upon West and Mawson walking on ahead and took themto be Bulgarian comitaj. 

"No, that's not an English uniform, " he said, and searched them forfirearms. When the others came he wavered. Miss Brindley did not looklike a comitaj; and by the time we arrived he began to talk about themilitary situation in the Balkans, and rode off with the politest offarewells. 

If there isn't a telegraph wire to guide, don't take short cuts. Jan, Stajitch, and Jo tried to race the darkness by cutting straight down aravine. We lost the horses, lost every one else, and we came out againon to a hill crest. No one was to be seen. After a while the professorrode by, led by his policeman, who had been almost suffocated bylaughter all day. 

"Teshko, teshko, " moaned the professor. 

"Ni je teshko, " we said. "But where are the horses?"

He waved a hand vaguely behind him. Rogerson, Whatmough, and Owen cameup. It was getting dark and a mist was rising. So we left the three atthe corner to mark where it was and went back. For a long time westumbled in the darkness, shouting, but no horses could we find. At lastwe decided to turn back, wondering if they too had lost their way anddecided to camp out. There were shouts in the valley beyond. A lightflashed and some one fired off a revolver. There was a candle end inJan's bag, and by its dim light we found a road. It went downwards, sowe thought it might be the right one. Suddenly it turned in the wrongdirection, but as there were hoof marks on it we decided to follow it asit must lead somewhere--we could not search the whole countryside with acandle. Just as we were in despair the road seemed to shake itself andtwisted back again. We heard more shouting and saw a light, and at lastfound Miss Brindley and Mawson, who were waiting for us. 

"We have been to the village, " they said. 

We asked them about the horses. They said they were all there!!!!

That professor again!

Some one heard trickling water, and with a cry of joy we put our mouthsunder the jet of water which spouted from a little trough which juttedfrom the hill. Nothing could be seen of the village when we arrived, butit seemed very long and very stony. An old peasant with a candle led usfor what seemed miles between high palisades of wood until we reachedthe inn. 

There was a big room with a stove in the middle and many Montenegrins inuniform were sitting about. Some of our party were already asleep, wornout on the benches. We opened a tin of beef, got some bread and kaimackand woke up the others for their evening meal. While we were eating aMontenegrin staff officer said--

"Your commandant, the professor--"

"What?" said we. 

"Your commandant, the professor, has said you will rest here to-morrow. "

We told him the professor was no commandant of ours, and that wecertainly would not rest there to-morrow. 

"Well, " said the staff officer, "he has certainly ordered horses for theday after from the captain. "

We were too tired to rectify matters at once, and our meal finished, werolled up on the dirty floor. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXI

THE FLEA-PIT

Those comfortable folks who have never slept out of a bed do not knowhow annoying a blanket may be, if there is nothing into which to tuckits folds. Wrap yourself up in one, lie flat and motionless on thefloor, and we guarantee that in an hour the blanket has unrolled itselfand is making frantic efforts to escape. Every night on the roadresolved into a half-dazed attempt to hold on to the elusive wrap. Sleepcame in as a second consideration, and when we say we awoke on anyparticular morning, it really means that we got up, though several of usin the intervals of blanket catching did get in a snore or two. 

Well, we got up, then, in good time next day, hoping to rectify theprofessor's interference, and stumbling along with Stajitch, we reachedthe high-roofed "Dürer" dwelling where resided the commandant of thevillage. In the kitchen we found two women with bare feet, two childrenand a man half undressed. He brought in the captain, also in negligée. Now, mark, we were in Montenegro. We exposed our grievance to thecaptain and roundly denounced the professor as an interfering oldbeggar. The captain first gave us coffee, second hurried us to hisoffice, third called in three henchmen and issued rapid orders. 

"Certainly, certainly. You shall have all the horses you need. Just onlywait one little quarter of an hour. I will give you four policemen to gowith you. "

We protested that four was too many. 

"No, no, " he said, "you had better have four. "

We went back joyfully to the hotel. Cutting or one of the others hadbeen exploring and had gotten twenty eggs. The hotel people consented tocook them. While we were outside looking at the mosques and wonderingwhen the horses were coming, the professor walked into the bar-room. 

"Ah, " said he, "eggs. "

"They belong to the English, " said the hostess. 

"Good, " said the professor, and swallowed four. 

Just then we returned. 

"But there are only sixteen eggs, " said we. 

"The professor has eaten the others, " said the woman, pointing. 

In a minute the professor wished that he had not. Jan took theopportunity of saying a few things which had been boiling within him. Heaccused the wretched man of interference in assuming control of theexpedition; he said that he was a mere hanger-on, and a useless andselfish one at that. 

The professor wilted. He made a thousand apologies, and finally ran offwringing his fat hands, found with great difficulty four more eggs andcast them into the boiling water. 

"There, " he said, "you can have your four eggs. "

"It's not the eggs, " answered Jan, "it's you. "

Jo was roaring with laughter. Some of the morning she had been in awoman's house listening to one of the policeman's tales of theprofessor, and soon the whole village was rocking with amusement at"Teshko. "

At last the horses arrived--six miserable-looking beasts, but this timeall had shoes. One was commandeered by the professor. 

"He is the greatest philosopher in all Serbia, " whispered an official toJan. 

"Ah, I guessed there must be some reason, " said Jan. 

We had a send-off, all the village came to see us go away. The day wasa repetition of our previous experiences. A long tramp in the mud. Atthe top of the highest pass we had yet reached was an old woodenblockhouse. 

We came upon it unexpectedly, rounding a corner. Montenegrin soldierswere cooking at a wood fire; but we were surprised to find all round thesquare log cabin deep rifle pits, the best we had yet seen in Serbia. 

"Good Lord, what are those for?" said Jan. 

"This is an old Turkish post, " said the sergeant. "It has been kept up. We don't know why. "

We walked off meditating. Montenegrins do not squander soldiers withoutreason; and then one's mind went back to the four armed guards who wereaccompanying us. 

We discovered the truth later, let us tell the story here. 

Berane, to which we were descending, was once a populous growing Turkishtown. After the Balkan war it fell into Montenegrin territories. TheMontenegrins chased out all the Turkish landowners, who fled to thesemountains, where they formed bands of brigands and caused no littleconsternation and trouble to the authorities, who could not catch them. The authorities passed a little Act, reinstating the landowners intheir territories; but when an attempt was made to put the Act intoforce, it was found that the authorities themselves were in possessionof the lands. What was to be done? The blockhouse was the solution. 

We stopped at a primitive café and lunched. Jo gave the children somechocolate. They did not know what it was. She smeared some on to thebaby's lips, and after that it sucked hard. Soon the little girl lickedhers; but the boy, more suspicious, would not eat, holding the lump tillit melted into a sticky mass in his fingers. The scenery was verybeautiful. There was a faint rain which greyed everything, and the nearbirches had lost all their leaves and the twigs made a reddish fogthrough which could be seen the slopes of the opposite hillsides. Theprofessor began to be worried about the rain. 

"If this should turn to snow, " said he, "we would be snowed up. And I amsure I don't know what I should do if I were snowed up. "

We hoped to reach our halting place, which was called Vrbitza, beforedark; but it was further away than our informant had said. Once more wefound ourselves floundering about in the mud of the village path afterdusk. We reached houses which we could not see; walked over slipperypoles set over heaven knows what middens. Clambered up creaky stepsinto the usual sort of dirty wooden room--and there, his stockings off, warming his toes at the blaze of the wood fire, was "Eyebrows. "

We were immediately attracted by three paintings on the wall. They weredecorative designs, very beautiful. We asked the proprietor who had donethem. 

"I did, " he said. 

"Will you sell them?" we asked. 

He giggled like a girl. "Ah, who would buy them?" he said. 

"We will. "

"I couldn't let you have them for less than sixpence, " he said. "You seethe papers cost a penny each. "

Whatmough coveted one, so he had his choice, we took the other two. 

The policeman came to tell us that rooms had been prepared in two cleanhouses. We scrambled out into the dark again, stumbled along in the mud, and at last found an open square of light, through which we came into aroom. 

There was a red rug over half the floor, and a brasier on three legsfilled with charcoal standing in the centre. One or two of our men hadalready found the place and were lying on the rug. In one corner was alarge baking oven like a beehive, half in one and half in the room nextdoor. A wide shelf ran from the beehive almost to the open door. Therewere two small windows, each about the size of this book wide open. Janand Jo sniffed. Where had they smelt that odour before?

An old woman in Albanian costume crept up to Jo and caught her by theskirt. 

"See, " she said, dragging her into the next room, "here is a fine bed. The ladies will sleep with me this night. "

Jo looked at the old lady's greasy hair and filthy raiment. 

"We always sleep with our own people, " she said firmly. 

The old lady protested. All the while our men were packing the baggagebeneath the shelf. It was a tight fit, but at last it was got in. 

The professor entered once more on the scene. 

"This house will do very well for the common people, " he said, "but theHerr Commandant" (meaning Jan) "and the two ladies will come over tosleep with me. "

"No, we won't, " said Jan, Jo and Miss Brindley in one voice. 

"Then what will you do?"

"We will give you two policemen, or all four if you like. We will packin here somehow. You can take the other house all to yourself. "

"That will not do, " said the professor. "If you are all determined tosleep here, I too, will come here. You will need somebody to protectyou. "

Jo's back went up. 

"If you are afraid to sleep in the other house, " she said, "you cansleep here with us. But if you are coming here to protect us, we don'trequire _you_. "

"But you do not understand, " said the professor kindly, as if to achild: "there is danger. You will need me to protect you. "

"Not in the least, " answered Jo. "If you will say that you are afraid, we will offer you our shelter. Otherwise you can have all four policemenat the other house. "

The professor was afraid to say that he was afraid, so after statingthat we were curious people, he went off with the guards. 

With great difficulty we packed in. Cutting and Whatmough were forced toclimb on to the shelf and the brazier was pushed out of the room. One byone we rolled up in our rugs, made pillows out of a pair of boots or acocoa tin, cursed each other for taking up so much space, and at lastall were jammed together like sardines. It was like the family in thedrawing: If father says turn, we all turn. 

We did not rest well. Thirteen people in a room which would comfortablyhold three was a little too close packing. There was a lot of grumblingcoming from one corner, and after a while a light was struck. 

"Good lord, " said somebody, "my pillow's crawling!"

Bugs were cascading down the walls. Stajitch jumped to his feet, andbegan stamping hard. "Rivers of them, " he yelled. 

Cutting and Whatmough were groaning about the heat, so we opened thedoor. Immediately all the dogs of the village, half wolves, hurledthemselves at the lighted space. Stajitch slammed it just in time; hadthey burst in, lying down as we were, we should have been unable toprotect ourselves. 

A dark face peered in between the baking oven and the wall, a swarthyAlbanian face. It looked at us and then silently withdrew. 

"It doesn't matter, " said somebody at last, "we've got to stick it. "

We roused up neither rested nor refreshed. The room seen in the dimlight of the morning seemed even more revolting than it had been thenight before. We demanded the bill, it was brought--five francs forapples which we had bought. And for the room? Nothing. We gave our hostthree francs extra, and he bowed, putting his hands to his bosom andkissed our palms. 

There was a good stiff clay soil waiting for our tiring feet, and by thetime we reached Berane, there was no thought of going further. Almostevery one was exhausted. 

We reached the shores of the river. The bridge had been washed away, butthe inhabitants had made a boat like a sort of huge wooden shoe whichthey dragged to and fro with ropes. We clambered in and were hauledover. Our baggage had not yet arrived, so Jan and Stajitch ordered lunchfor the others and went down to see about it. Just as they were landedon the opposite bank the rope broke. So all the Montenegrins andAlbanians who were working the ferry went off to a midday meal, leavingthe two with the pangs of hunger growling within, sitting on the bank. 

After two hours' waiting the rope was repaired, and they got back tolunch famishing. We then arranged sleeping places and locked up all thebaggage in an empty shop. Our room was one of those ordinary Montenegrinbedrooms plastered with pictures. Amongst them was a postcard, and on itwas printed large in English in blue crystalline letters, "NeverAgain. "

Whence did it come, this enigmatic postcard, and what did it mean? Itseemed almost a solemn warning; yet in a hotel bedroom. What did thehostess think it meant?

"Never Again. "

Some of the men came in cheering, having found Turkish delight in one ofthe shops. We were sadly needing sugar, as our last tin had been stolenalong with lots of other things. So we indulged in "Turkish" not wisely. 

The professor got up to his old games again. Again he had told thecommandant that he was leading the British, and that we would rest thenext day, and again Jan had to pick him off his perch. 

Some got a bed that night, the others had to sleep "in rows, " half underthe beds and half projecting out. The people on the beds said it was afunny sight. 

When we unpacked at night we found who had been robbing us. Thepolicemen. We had missed many more things, but found that the amountvaried in direct ratio to the number of police who guarded us. All ourspare boots were now gone, Blease's overcoat, and also Miss Brindley's. Jo had lost her only other coat and skirt, and one or two mackintosheswere missing. Now we knew why the police wore long-skirted coats; butwhat a disappointment the one must have had who lifted Jo's coat andskirt. 

Got off again in good time the next morning. Cutting and three othersstayed behind to look after the police. Lucky they did, because one ofthe horses wore out, and the police would have left it on the road, packand all. As it was we left the horse grazing, but the baggage wastransferred. 

There had been a decentish level road made from Andrievitza half way toBerane, and women were working hard on the extension in the hopes ofgetting it finished for the Serbs; but that they could never do, forthere were but few of them. Further on many of the bridges wereunfinished, and in one or two places a landslide had carried away theroad itself, leaving a deep clinging mud in its place, but we weregetting used to mud. 

We met "Eyebrows" once more, just at the entrance to the village; but hewas going on to Pod, so had finally got a day ahead of us. Found roomsin our old resting place. 

The professor was threatening to accompany us to Italy--he was like theold man of the sea. We got a telegram from the English Minister, sayingthat he did not think we could ever get to Italy from Scutari. Wepreferred to trust to our luck which so far had been wonderful, especially in the matter of weather. In the evening the captain sent tosay that twenty horses would await us the next day. A motor car wouldhave been sent, he added, but almost all the bridges were washed awayand they could get no nearer than Liéva Riéka. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXII

ANDRIEVITZA TO POD

A problem met us in the morning. Willett was quite ill and only fit forbed. But bed was impossible. We had just escaped from the sound of theguns, and did not know which way the Austrians were coming. To wait wastoo risky; others would certainly get seedy and sooner or later some onemight get seriously ill. We felt we must push on to Podgoritza and bewithin hail of doctor and chemist. But Willett looked very wretched, lying flat and refusing breakfast. 

We plied him with chlorodyne; but the chlorodyne did not like him andthey parted company. We tried chlorodyne followed by brandy with bettereffect. Others also showed a distinct interest in the chlorodyne bottle. We felt very anxious: milk was almost unprocurable, other comforts nil. 

We finally decided that if he was going to have dysentery he had betterhave it decently and in order at Podgoritza, than stand the chance ofbeing suddenly surprised by the Austrians and made to walk endlessdistances. So we heaved him on to a wooden pack, and the otherchlorodyney figures of woe climbed on to the remaining queer-lookingsaddles. 

Blease tried a horse which had a thoughtful eye. It kicked him on theknee, and trod on his toe, so he relinquished the joy of riding for theserener pleasure of walking. Jan clambered on to it, whereupon it stoodon its forelegs, and as there were no stirrups and the saddle back hithim behind, he landed over its neck, remaining there propped up by astick which was in his hand. After readjusting himself inside the twowooden peaks of the saddle, he testified his disapproval to the beast, and trotted away in style, leaving a row of grinning Montenegrins andboys behind with the exception of one who clung to reins and other bitsof saddlery, imploring him to stop. It would seem as if pack ponies werenever meant to trot, but at last he shook off the pony boy, passed MissBrindley (whose horse was looking at himself in a puddle with such deepand concentrated interest that he pulled her over his head and landedher in the middle of the water), and reached the vanguard of the party, who had deserted their horses for a lift on a lorry--Willett, sitting infront with the driver, was shrunk like a concertina inside his greatcoat. 

The lorry dropped us just before the first broken bridge. Then we had toleave the road and face mud slush, climbing for hours. We had picked upvarious friends--a courtly old peasant who was very worried to hear thatKragujevatz had fallen, and feared for the invasion of Montenegro; twobarefoot girls, who asked Jo all the usual questions, and anAmerican-speaking Serbian man who had trudged from Ipek, the firstrefugee on that road from Serbia. He was very mysterious, and contraryto the usual custom, would not tell us about himself nor where he wasgoing. 

He was very anxious to stand us drinks, but curiously enough, every onerefused. The professor had started before us, with a Greek priest. Whenwe passed him he lifted his hands deprecatingly, "Teshko. "

Our hopes of arriving before dark were as usual crushed. The dusk foundus still floundering in the mud on wayside paths. It began to pour. Thehills above us became white--a straight line being drawn between snowand rain--and our guides wanted us to spend the night at an inn twohours before we reached Jabooka. But it looked very uninviting--weremembered the cheery hostess of Jabooka, the woman who came from "otherparts, " and knew a thing or two about cleanliness. Every one agreed togo on. Willett was rather better, so we forged ahead in the downpourand the dark, splashing through puddles and singing everything we knew. Our Albanian guides chuckled and chanted their own nasal songs in adifferent key as an accompaniment. 

Far away we saw a tiny light--Jabooka. We stretched our legs and hurriedalong, but alas! the inn room was full. There was the professor, hisface shining from warmth and well-being, crowds of men in uniform, somefat travelling civilians: faces looked up from the floor, from thecorners, faces were everywhere, wet boys were steaming in front of thefire, while the hostess and a girl were picking their way as best theycould in the tobacco smoke with eggs and rakia. 

Full; even the floor! and we were wet through. The professor hadannounced that we were staying at the dirty inn away back. Oh, the oldvillain!

He came forward, saying in an impressive voice that a major had takenthe inn. 

"Bother the major, " said Jo. "Something must be done. "

The professor smiled. "There _is_ another inn. "

There was nothing for it. We had to go to the inn across the road, gladenough to have a roof at all. The rain was tearing down as if theheavens were filled with fire-engines. 

But they didn't want us there. We beheld a dirty low-ceiled room filledwith filthy people and a smell of wet unwashed clothes. 

The owner and his wife received us roughly. "We have no room, we havenothing, " they said. 

We stood our ground. "We _must_ have a roof to-night. "

Outside the road had become a river, our men were nearly dropping withfatigue. 

"You can't come here, " said the innkeeper, looking at us with greatdistrust. 

The major, whom Jo had "bothered, " came in. "You must take thesepeople, " he said, and asked various searching questions about the rooms. 

Reluctantly the truth came out that if the whole family slept in oneroom there would be one for us. The major ordered them to do it. Jowished she hadn't "bothered" him quite so gruffly. 

The daughters stamped about, furiously pulling all the blankets off thetwo beds, while one of them stood in the doorway watching us to see thatwe did not secrete the greasy counterpanes. Several of the party sat, hair on end, with staring eyes, too tired to shut them. 

"Food?"

"Nema Nishta, " was the response. 

"Can we boil water?"

"No. "

"Where can we boil it?"

"Nowhere. "

"But there is a fire in the kitchen, " we said, pointing to a hoodedfireplace where a few sticks were burning. 

"Why shouldn't they boil water?" said a kindly looking man. 

"Well, I suppose they can, " said the old woman, who became almostpleasant over the kitchen fire--telling Jo she was sixty and only astara Baba (old granny). 

Miss Brindley made tea. We cheered as she brought it in. Tea, bullybeef, and our last biscuits comprised our dinner, which we ate in biggulps, after which we sang "Three blind mice" as a digestive. 

The half-open door was full of peering faces, so somewhat encouraged wegave them a selection of rounds. 

We left next morning early in a heavy downpour, after being exorbitantlycharged, glad to leave Jabooka for ever. 

The professor was before us, an aged red Riding Hood, clad in hisscarlet blanket. The day was long and uneventful. Trudge, trudge, splash, splash. The dividing line between snow and rain still washeavily marked, but it sleeted and our hands were quite numbed. Wecrossed an angry stream on a greasy pole and most of us splashed in. Whatmough stood in the water, remarking, "I'm wet and I'll get nowetter, " and helped people across. Again after dark we arrived at LiévaRiéka, to find our dirty old inn again; but it had a real iron stovewhich gave out a glorious heat, and we crowded around in the ill-litroom, clouds of steam arising from us. We tried to dry our stockingsagainst the stove pipe, but the old mother did not approve. She wasafraid of fire. When she ran out of the room, socks were pressedsurreptitiously against the pipe with a "sizz, " and when she returned, innocent looking people were standing against the wall, no socks to beseen. 

The eldest daughter settled down with her head in Jo's hip, havingfailed to get Miss Brindley alongside. She gazed longingly at MissBrindley from Jo's lap, and asking for all the data possible as to herlife. 

"A devoika (girl), free, travelling from a country so far away that itwould take three months in an oxcart to get there. "

"Oh, how wonderful!"

They gave us a tiny room and two benches--much too small for the wholecompany; so some slept outside on the balcony. 

The professor was in the adjoining inn, so we guessed it must be thebest; but a young French sailor, from the wireless in Podgoritza, whocame to gossip with us, said there was nothing to choose. 

He was champing, as the Government were commandeering the wirelesscompany's motor cars right and left using them to cart benzine; and nowthey were going to send a refugee Serb officer's family to Podgoritza inhis motor, leaving him sitting. 

We spent the next morning waiting for the motor, not knowing if it wouldarrive or no. The professor sailed away in the French one, being one upon us again. It still rained, so we sat contemplating the possibilitiesof lunch. No sooner was it on the boil than the biggest automobile inMontenegro, a covered lorry, turned up. 

We persuaded the driver to lunch with us, and packed ourselves and ourdingy packages on to the wet floor. The motor buzzed up and downhill, incessantly twisting and turning: what we could see of the view from theback waved to and fro like Alpine scenery seen in the cinematograph. Stajitch became violently seasick with the fumes of benzine, which arosefrom two big tanks we were taking along, and lay with his head lollingmiserably out of the back of the car. 

Pod once more, sleepy, inhospitable Pod. 

We bargained for rooms at our old inn--mixed beds and floors. The ownerwas asking more than ever; he shrugged his shoulders and raised hishands. 

"The war--increasing prices. "

So we took what we could, put Stajitch to bed, saw the prefect, our oldfriend from Chainitza, who promised us a carriage for Cettinje in themorning. 

Miss Brindley, joyfully ready to see Cettinje and anything else thatmight turn up, joined Jo and Jan in the old shandrydan carriage whichlumbered along for seven hours to Cettinje. 

"We are going to find Turkish delight, " said the others, as theydisappeared down a side street, revelling in the idea of a rest. 

Cettinje was inches deep in water. We assured the Count de Salis thatmuch as we needed money to continue the journey, we needed baths more. 

This was a weighty matter and needed much thinking out, petroleum beingvery scarce. The huge empty Legation kitchen stove was lit and upon itwere placed all the kettles, saucepans, and empty tins in the place; thepicturesque old baggy-breeched porter, his wife, and little boy stokinghard, and asking lots of questions. One by one we were ushered into aroom, not the bathroom but a room containing the sort of comfortablebath which makes the least water go the longest way, and also abeautiful hot stove. This solemn rite occupied a whole afternoon. Wehad not taken our clothes off for sixteen days and had been in thedirtiest of places. A change of underclothing was effected. None toosoon! for at Liéva Riéka we had picked up lice. 

We compared notes on this part afterwards. "Happy hunting?" we inquiredlike Mowgli's friends. It was good to sit by the big kitchen stoveholding bits of dripping clothing to the blaze; the downfall at Cettinjethe evening before having completely drenched our damp things again. 

Next day outside the world was white and silent, the snow covering thelittle city and its intrigues with a thick whitewash. 

The minister was the kindest of hosts and could not do enough for usduring our stay. Cettinje had not changed much. The hotel-keeper showedan intense and violent anxiety to leave Montenegro. Never had his nativeSwitzerland seemed so alluring and never was it so unattainable. Thechemist, who owned a little one-windowed shop, was engaged to the king'sniece, quite a lift in the world for her, as she was marrying a man ofeducation. 

Penwiper, the dog, was still in sole possession of the street, and againwent mad with joy at the sound of English women's voices, andaccompanied us everywhere, generally upside-down in the snow, clutchingour skirts with her teeth. 

Jan was in and out of the Transport Office door while Miss Brindley andJo were being followed around the streets by a jeering crowd ofchildren, who seemed to think that Miss Brindley's india-rubber boot-topleggings and Jo's corrugated stockings and safety-pinned-up skirt out ofplace. We bought some bags from a woman we afterwards heard wassuspected of being an Austrian spy. 

Poor old Prenk Bib Doda was in our hotel. He was Prince of theMiridites. As a boy he had been kidnapped by the Turks and haled off toConstantinople. Grown to a middle-aged man in captivity, he was restoredto his tribes during the Young Turk Revolution, only to be abducted bythe Montenegrins, and to be kept practically a prisoner in Cettinje. Wedon't know if he disliked it, possibly not, for his walk in life seemsto be that of a professional hostage, if one may say so. His ideals ofcomfort were certainly nearer to the cabarets in Berlin, than to thewild orgies of his own subjects. In fact he was civilized. 

A passage across the Adriatic seemed problematic. The Transport Ministerhoped we might catch a ship that had tried to leave Scutari three times, but had always been thrown on the beach by storms. The great difficultywas crossing the lake of Scutari. One steamer had been mysteriously sunkand another damaged. He promised to arrange a motor for us directly heshould be able to put his hand on a boat to take us across the lake. 

Jan and Jo simultaneously began to wish they had not eaten sardines atRiéka. The attack was very violent, and next day Jo stayed in bed, refusing the page boy's efforts to tempt her with lunch. 

"See, " he said, bearing in a third dish, "English, your i _rissh_kew. "

Jo pretended to be pleased, and made Jan eat the Irish stew after hislunch, so that the page boy's feelings should not be hurt. 

Suddenly word came from the Transport Minister that a carriage wascoming for us. We were to go to Pod, and pick up the others. So Jostopped tying herself into knots and had to get up and go. We arrived atPod to find everybody ill. Two days' sedentary life and Turkish delightwere responsible for this. We suggested castor oil. One had just missedpleurisy--Whatmough had acted as nurse. 

The professor had been trying to pump Stajitch as to our future plans, as he was again alone and rudderless. Stajitch said--

"Mr. And Mrs. Gordon alone know, and they are in Cettinje. "

"Now that's not kind to keep a fellow countryman in the dark, " said theprofessor. 

Stajitch assured him he knew nothing; but the professor walked away, murmuring that the English were undermining a good Serb boy's character. 

And that was the last of the professor. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIII

INTO ALBANIA

We caught the mayor in the morning. He was in his shirt-sleeves and hesaid that the auto had been arranged for. It came and we packed in. Onthe back perched a boy who outsmelt any Serb we had ever found. Itseemed impossible that a human could so smell and yet live. Suddenly theboy drew a packet from his pocket and the smell became intolerable. Heunwrapped a piece of cheese and, gasping for breath, we watched itdisappear. When it had gone we breathed more freely, but the odour stillclung to the youth, and we were not sorry when the auto pulled up at thevillage of Plavnitza on the edge of the lake. A man, who said that hehad been sent to help us, dragged us to the telephone office. He worriedthe instrument for a while and announced that the boat would be here intwo hours. It would have come earlier, but somehow they couldn't makesteam get up. We expected it to come in four, and so went off to getsomething to eat. 

The lake was very high, coming right up to the road. All the low fieldswere covered with water as far as one could see. The girl at the inn wasshuddering and shivering with malaria, and we gave her some quinine. Atlast the steamer came. 

We had to pack into one of those cockhat boats, as the quay wasseparated from the village by half a mile of water. When we got to thesteamer, the captain leaned over the side and shouted--

"Where are the mattresses?"

"What mattresses?" said the harbour-master. 

"When are you going to start?" demanded we, clambering on board. 

"When I get the mattresses, " said the captain. 

"But what mattresses?" replied the harbour-master. 

"I was sent to get mattresses, " said the captain, "and here I wait tillthey come. "

This was a nuisance, nobody had said anything about the mattresses. 

"I shan't go till to-morrow anyhow, " said the skipper. 

"I think we'd all better go back to Podgoritza and come againto-morrow, " said the man in charge. 

"We don't move from here, " said Jo, firmly. "If he won't go we'll sit onthis boat--which was sent for us--and sing songs all night so that heshan't sleep. "

The captain refused to move without the mattresses and we refused to goback, so a violent argument ensued. We remained adamant. At last indespair the harbour master said that he would go and telephone. Nightwas coming on, the deck was chilly, so Jan went to explore. The quay washalf under water, but by jumping from stone to stone one could getabout, and Jan discovered an entrance into the stone storehouse. Thedoor was boarded up, but he forced his way in, discovering a huge emptyinterior banked up well above the water. At one end was a platform madeof boards on tubs. An ideal bed. He called the company and they arrangedthemselves on the planks, though some were dismayed at the prospect ofgetting no supper. The boards were loose and as each took his place theybobbed up and down. Miss Brindley said that it seemed like sleeping onthe keyboard of a piano. We did not expect to see anything beforemorning of the harbour-master or of Stajitch who had gone with him; butjust as we were settled and beginning to snore and the rats were runningabout, Stajitch poked his head through the window and said that the boatwas going immediately. We reluctantly got up, for we were really rathercosy, packed again and hopped in the moonlight from stone to stone tillwe got to the ship--which was the same old Turkish gunboat on which wehad travelled once before. The thing was then explained--a telegraphicmistake. The captain had been ordered to fetch the strangers: butstrangers and mattresses are only one letter different, "n" or "m, " thisletter had been transposed. 

Luckily it was a beautiful moonlight night. The lake was wonderfullyromantic. A fat Serbian captain, who seemed to know Stajitch, made arequest. He said that he had been cut off from his division, which wasat Monastir, and that he was going to try and rejoin them. He ask us ifhe could join our party, as it would come cheaper at the hotels and hecould get transport. 

It was pretty cold on the lake, but we wrapped ourselves in our blanketsand said the view was lovely. Hunger was also gnawing within us, so wewere glad when at last the rumbling old engines halted and the steamergave three hoots. We waited anxiously, and at last a large rowboat camesideways against the steamer. Four carriages were waiting in the bazaar. A very polite Montenegrin doctor welcomed us at the hotel and we gotsome much desired food. 

Bed was beginning to be a mere commonplace now, but we enjoyed it forall that, and slept well into the morning. 

Scutari wore its usual air of "the ballet" when we arose. The ladiesdressed all in their best clothes, and with great flowing veils and wideskirted coats were hobbling to church. The shopkeepers, with their longblack and white legs and coloured shirts, were lounging about the lowcounters of their shops, smoking and drinking coffee brought them (onlittle swinging trays) by boys. 

The British consul had taken up his quarters at the "Maison Piget. " Thehouse was gated, as are all Albanian houses, but this gate was like anold feudal portal. The doors were wonderfully carved and were opened byour old friend the Wolf. We had thought him to be a servant of Suma's, but it appeared that he belonged to the British Empire. 

The house was crammed full of arms: a little cannon threatened us on thestairway, swords, claymores, creeses, falchions, scimitars, glaives, dirks, and yatagans were nailed on all the walls, and there were musketsof every sort and size, heavy arquebuses from the north and gas-pipeguns and Arab horsemen firelocks with polished stocks like the handle ofa corkscrew, all inlaid with gold, silver, and mother-of-pearl. 

"Yes, " said the consul, gazing reflectively, "he had a taste forweapons. And also for old cookery books. "

The consul said that he thought that there was a boat at San Giovanni. We cheered, for our luck seemed to be holding, and while he went off tothe Italian consul we went to the governor to beg for transport. Neitherconsul nor governor was in, but we caught the Italian consul in theafternoon. He admitted that there was a boat, but warned us that it wasno nosegay. He said that two Frenchmen who had thought of taking it hadsent him back a telegram which had quite unnerved him. 

"Et je n'ai jamais dit qu'elle était une Transatlantique, " he said, waving his arms. 

He said that the archbishop had told him that a party of English hadcome into the town last night, "en haillons, " but that he had notbelieved it possible. However, he had seen two of us in the street thatmorning, and had realized that it was true. 

We said that any boat would do. He warned us of the danger ofsubmarines. 

At the consul's house we found the captain of the Miridites awaiting us. He was a heavy-looking man with European clothes and a fez. After theceremonious coffee he made a set speech, saying that he was paying hisduties to the great British Empire, and that England was their onlyhope. The consul sat rather wishing that he wouldn't, and that hisservant had said that he was not at home. In common with most of theChristian rulers of Albania this gentleman seemed to have spent most ofhis time in exile. 

Returning to the hotel Jan found that Jo had been purchasing, and hedragged her and Miss Brindley off to see the archbishop. The cathedralstill carries the scars of the first bombardment. The archbishop, alarge flat man, gave us each a hand as though he expected us to kiss it;he had a huge archiepispocal ring and a lot of imperiosity. He seemedmore political than bishopy, though most of the Churchmen are; and thereis the tale of one who said, "I would rather people went to drill thanto church. " There were a lot of wealthy looking Albanians sitting roundand being respectable. The archbishop spoke no French nor German, onlyItalian. But Jan, with the help of a lot of old musical terms, and animperfectly forgotten Spanish, managed to convey to him someintelligible compliments and sentences. We got out at last, and hiseminence accompanied us to the top of the stairs and gave us thedifficult problem of bowing backwards as we went down. This visit wasnecessary, as we might have had to get a "Besa" from him if we meant togo through to Durazzo. 

The Serbian captain who had been on the Turkish gunboat met us in thestreet. He dragged us into a café and began to order beer by thehalf-dozen. He presented Jo with a small Turkish gold coin, which wasvalued at five shillings, as a bribe to allow him to join our party. Ashe already had permission it seemed superfluous. 

Some of our party were still pretty seedy. Two had gone to a shop insearch of castor oil. A very old and withered chemist, who spoke badFrench, invited them in and asked for an account of their adventures, interrupting them with explosions of "Ah poves, poves, poves, poves. ""Ah, poves, poves, poves, poves, " between every incident and also at thefinal request for the medicine. He showed them to the door and suddenlyburst into unexpected English. 

"Good naite, vairey good. I am your poppa. "

In the hotel café we found two French aeroplanists, for four had arrivedthat day, sailing down over the city, to the great terror of theinhabitants. They seemed to be afflicted with the same idea as "QuelPays. "

"Ah, monsieur et dame, " said they, "quel pays. "

We asked them how things were. 

"We have just come from Prizren. The Serbs are in a dreadful condition. All the roads are covered with starving and dying people. The troops areeating dead horses and roots. There have been violent snow blizzards allover the mountains. We saw some of your people, too, doctors and nurses, they were going off to Ipek, 'dans une condition déplorable. ' We cameacross the mountains; one of us is lost. Awful country, nowhere to landif anything went wrong and one of our machines has not arrived. Godknows what has happened to them. The rest of us are all coming along onfoot. We burnt fifty motor cars yesterday, monsieur, that made a blaze. "

We asked them what sort of a time they had had in Serbia; but much oftheir answer is unpublishable. 

"Each time we ascended every Serbian regiment fired at us. Once we camedown over a battalion and the whole lot fired volleys, and when welanded and stood in front of our machine holding up our hands, " theypantomimed, "they continued to fire at us. Then they came and took usprisoners, and were going to shoot us, although one of us had a militarymedal. A schoolmaster recognised us as French and rescued us. Ourmachine was broken; but we could get no transport and had to walk thirtykilometres back to our base without food. 

"Another time we were chasing an Austrian, the Serbian batteries firedat us, monsieur, not at the enemy. Our officers had to send from theaerodrome to tell them to stop. "

As we were going to bed the Montenegrin doctor came in. 

"I am sent by the governor, monsieur, " said he. "We do not consider itsafe, this boat idea. Austrian submarines are everywhere, and thegovernor would feel it as a personal responsibility if you were drowned. We will provide carriages to Alessio and thence arrange horses--only oneday and a half on to Durazzo. Thence Essad Pasha will give you his motorboat and you can easily get to Valona. "

Our men groaned at the thought of more journeying. They were allthoroughly fed up with the road, though personally we rather liked theidea. We had heard that Durazzo was very interesting, and would haveliked to have met Essad, though we did not know just how his politicswere trending. We decided to see the Italian consul once more. 

Next day we hunted up the mayor, Mahram Beg, a Turk, for he also couldgive us a "Besa" if necessary. He was at last discovered, a littlecrumpled looking man in an office. We were not allowed to interview himin private, but a Montenegrin was there and all conversation had topass by him like through an imperfect telephone. We gave the mayor agreeting from Colonel P----and little else. A very disappointinginterview. 

Jan went off to see the governor, who received him kindly. He said thathe would arrange everything, but that it was difficult for him with theItalian consul, as the Powers did not recognize the Montenegrinoccupation. 

"You see, monsieur, here I am the law, and yet the law does notrecognize me. "

The Italian assured us that the Montenegrins were wrong, and that ofcourse the boat would be escorted, and the danger reduced to its leastpossible amount. Just after we had left him we heard two things whichmade us jump. 

A body of English officers had landed at Medua, and ninety Englishrefugees from Serbia were _en route_ for Scutari. Could we not catch thetransport and at the same time leave room for the others? Suma came in, and we consulted him. He was doubtful if the horses could be got atAlessio for us. 

"You see, it is Albania and not Montenegro, " he repeated. 

We accordingly hunted up the doctor. He promised us horses for themorrow. The carriages had all gone to fetch the English officers. Weasked him about Alessio, and he assured us that the telephone messagehad been received saying that they were waiting. We asked him severaltimes until he grew angry and said--

"Do you doubt my honour, then?"

Before we went to bed the hotel proprietor came to us. 

"Do you pay or the Government?" asked he; and seemed very relieved whenwe told him that we paid. The Montenegrins are neither loved nor trustedhere. 

The next morning the horses came, but very late. In the crowd watchingour departure was an old Albanian without a moustache. That was astrange sight; we looked harder. It was a woman. She must have been oneof those who had sworn eternal virginity, and so achieve all a man'sprivileges, even eating with them instead of getting the scraps leftover from the meal. But the punishment of death awaited her if shefailed her vow. Here was one, chuckling and grinning at some of us inour attempts to mount the weird saddles and weirder steeds which hadbeen provided. The Serb captain had a carriage, and another carriagetook all our baggage, which had now sadly dwindled owing to thecontinued depredations of the police. We straggled out of the town andthrough the crowded bazaar, for it was a Saturday. Passed the Venetianfort and the river from which stuck the funnel of the steamer somysteriously sunk one night. We had heard that the Turkish gun flatwhich had transported us had burst her boilers, so now the Montenegrinshad no steamers left. 

The road was level and better than many we had come over, though once ortwice the carriages were hopelessly mired, and had to be pushed across. West's horse had ideas about side streets, and bolted down each as hecame to it. 

We met the Adriatic Commission. Mr. Lamb and Mr. George Paget, returningafter so long an absence, were in the first carriage. We recognized Mr. Paget at once, for though either of them might have liked old arms, onlyone would have collected old cookery books. The rest of the commissioncame along later. They stopped us. We expected questions about theSerbs; but no. They said--

"Can one buy underclothing in Scutari?"

Their baggage transport had been sunk by an Austrian submarine and theyhad only what they were wearing. We wished each other luck and went on. There was no hope of arriving at Alessio that night, we had started toolate. As evening was falling, we came to an Albanian inn and decided toput up. 

There was a stable full of manure on the ground floor, through which onehad to pass, and in the dark one was continually slipping into themidden or running one's head unexpectedly into horses' hindquarters. Upa rickety stair were two rooms. The floor rocked as we walked over it, and every moment we expected to go through and be precipitated into themanure below. The walls and floor were so loosely made that the windblew through in all directions, and we called it the "castle in theair. " We supped on chickens which we had brought from Scutari, andWhatmough and Elmer made a fire in the yard and got us cocoa. By thistime we were all getting fed up with romantic surroundings, and wantedsomething more solid. The swarthy countenances about the bonfire, thequeer costumes in the flickering fire, left us unmoved. 

Sleep was impossible. The wind caught one in every corner, threateninglumbago. Stajitch fled and camped outside in one of the carriages, despite the rain. 

[Illustration: ALBANIAN MULE DRIVERS CAMPING. ]

We started as early as possible--dawn. Whatmough, Cutting, Jo and Janlost the road, but were eventually rescued by a policeman. About elevenone of the carriages broke down, and we had to repair it with tree andwire. Here the houses were again like fortresses, and everybodystared at us as though we came from the moon. 

We reached the bank opposite Alessio--a small Turkish-looking villagedivided between a mud-bank and a hillside. We were about to turn overthe bridge when news was brought that a motor-boat belonging to Essadwas in San Giovanni harbour. We sent a policeman galloping on to stopit, and followed as fast as our meagre horses would allow. We also heardthat a submarine had been in the port the day before and had tried totorpedo the ships lying there--but had missed. 

We cantered on, pressing along a stony road which was almost level withthe salt marshes on either side. San Giovanni appeared after about anhour and a half. We rode down on to the beach. The motor-boat wasgetting up anchor. We yelled to the skipper, but he understood no Serb;so we translated through a Turk who was lounging about. The skipper saidthat he could not embark us there as it was Montenegrin territory, butthat if we would go back to Alessio he would wait for us at the mouth ofthe river and take us down that very night. This seemed too good to betrue and we hurried back, passing an Austrian torpedo which had run upon the brown sand--a present from yesterday's raid. We turned the othersand cantered ahead to get a boat; reached the bridge once more andcrossed into Albania. Officials ran from all sides to stop us, but weignored them, dismounted, and ran to the side of the river where boatswere loading, overloading with passengers. The boatmen refused to takeus if we had no passes from the governor. 

We hunted the governor's office up the hillside, panting in our haste. We burst in upon him. He was a dirty man in an unclean shirt and unkempttrousers. 

"We want to go by the motor-boat, " we explained. 

"Who are you?" he asked, picking his teeth. 

"We are the English about whom the governor of Scutari has telegraphed. "

"I don't know anything about you, " he said. His manner was ungracious. 

"But, " we said, "they assured us that they had telegraphed fromScutari. "

The telegraph clerk was brought, and denied that any message had come. 

"Anyhow, " said the governor, "the motor-boat is for Albanian soldiersonly, and has gone twenty minutes ago. I can do nothing for you withoutauthority from Durazzo. "

We wandered dismally back through the town and were immediatelyarrested by the bridge officials because we had not paid the toll rates. We paid double to get rid of them. 

We found an inn. It was the usual sort of building only of stone, and sodirtier than the others. Some travelling show seemed to have left itsscenery in lieu of its bill, for bits of painted canvas did duty aspartitions. 

There was a room with six beds, but one was reserved for an Albanianofficer. We took the rest. We loitered about all the afternoon, and inthe evening the Albanian officer came in. He was a beaky-faced, unpleasant-looking man, but he procured us some bread, which we sorelylacked. The hotel had little food, so we gave them our rice. By thistime fleas had got into it, and seeming to like it had bred inquantities. Still as we had nothing else it had to be cooked, and wepicked out the boiled fleas as well as we were able. The Serbian captainstarted drinking with the Albanian, and soon both were well over theedge of sobriety. 

They came up long after we had turned in, fell over Cutting, who cursedthem without stint, and tumbled on to the beds which we had left forthem. The Albanian made some remarks about the ladies, which from thetone were insults; but we were unable to chastize him, or we should allhave been put into prison. 

They snored and coughed all night, and spat about in the dark. Those whowere sleeping near cowered beneath the mackintosh sheets and prayed forluck. But in the morning we found that they had been spitting on thewall. 

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIV

"ONE MORE RIBBER TO CROSS"

The Mayor of Alessio had said that there were lots of horses, if we hadEssad's permission; but the Turkish captain said that there were none, only at San Giovanni were they to be found. It was pelting with rain, but Blease and we decided to walk over to explore for ourselves. Janfirst wrote a very stiff letter to the Governor of Scutari about thenon-arrival of the telegram, and off we went, having borrowed oilskinsand sou'westers. The Serb captain insisted on coming with us. 

In half an hour the storm had made the stony road into a series of deepponds which nearly joined each other, so Jo tucked her now ragged skirtinto a bright woven Serbian belt and walked along with the waterstreaming from coat to boots. It became rather a pleasure to splashthrough ten-inch deep puddles, knowing that one could not possibly getany wetter, and this joy was intensified by the knowledge that theSerbian captain was being soaked and didn't like it. 

San Giovanni consists of a series of huts, each like Burns' birthplace, grouped on the shelving side of a stony cliff. The bay itself issemi-circular, with a long cape jutting out to the south, the extremityof which almost always is floating in the air, owing to the mirage. Inthe bay were two rusty steamers--one the _Benedetto_, which had beenpromised to us by the Italian governor--several old wooden sailers, anda lot of smallish fishing smacks very brightly painted and with raisedpoop and prow. A group of Albanians were toiling at sacks which cumberedthe little wooden jetty. 

We immediately hunted out Captain Fabiano, the Italian commander of thewireless telegraph, and found him in a little house at the northern hornof the bay. He received us gaily. He spoke an excellent French, so thatthe Serbian captain could not butt in and interfere, as was his habit. Fabiano said that it would take a long time to get a wire to Brindisi, where we had heard were several ships of the English fleet, very boredand craving for something to do; we had hoped to get into communicationwith them. Then Jan had a brain wave. 

"Is not the wind good for Durazzo?" asked he. 

"Splendid, " said Fabiano, "and no submarines to-day. "

"Could we not get a fishing boat?"

"I will send and see. "

While we were waiting he told us that he was sheltering the crew of theship which had been transporting the English mission's kit. The captainof the little transport had set fire to the benzine which his boat wascarrying, which act so enraged the submarine captain that he fired threetorpedoes into her, and afterwards mounted his conning tower and firedten full clips from his revolver at the swimming men. Luckily revolvershooting requires much practice. The men had clung to an overturned boatand had all eventually reached shore, after which they had to march aday and a half without boots or food, often fording rivers which came totheir waists. Fabiano said that he was going to send them home on the_Benedetto_. 

The captain of the port sent back word that we could have a boatimmediately--much to Fabiano's surprise. But most of the party were atAlessio. We hurried off to see the captain of the port. Explanations, certainly when the luggage came; and off went Jan with a guide to getpack ponies. Halfway back to Alessio was the stable, but the steeds werenot ready, so Jan was ushered up into a top room where was a huge fire, over which an Albanian was stewing a cormorant with all its feathers on. There were other Albanians and a very old Montenegrin soldier. Headmired everything English, even Jan's tobacco which he had bought inPod. 

We got to Alessio and packed everything hurriedly, paid the bill, tippedan old soldier two dinars, and off. As we passed over the bridge theclerk came running behind us. We had not paid the bridge fees, he said. 

"How much?" asked Jan. 

He hesitated. 

"Two dinars, " said he. He had been talking to the soldier. 

Meanwhile Jo and Blease had found refuge in the house of the militarycommandant. It was a hovel like all the houses, but they were given ahuge log fire which was built on the mud floor. Their stockings weresoon hanging on a line above the blaze, and their shins were scorching, while they drank wonderful liqueur which was hospitably poured out bythe beautiful old host. 

Turkish coffee was prepared for them by a soldier in a bursting Frenchfireman's uniform. 

The captain's fire was the rendezvous of the village. Amiable andpicturesque people came in and talked about the unhealthiness of theplace, the relative bravery of nations with a special reference to thecourage of Montenegrins, and about the submarine raid and of how theAustrian captain had repeatedly fired his revolver at the sailors ofthe boat he had sunk while they were swimming in the water. Their eyeswere streaming, not with emotion, but because in Montenegro one has nochimneys. 

At dusk the rest of us arrived. The port captain said "To-morrow, " so weclimbed up to the inn, examined the stores, a few tins of tunny, mackerel, and milk, and the thirteen made the best of the bar-room floorfor the night, booted and ready in case a transport for the _Benedetto_should arrive. 

In the morning the captain said we could have the boat that night, andin the evening he said we could have it in the morning. His excuse wasthat the Borra was blowing its hardest, and no sailor could be found toventure out; but Fabiano said that this was not true. 

The real reason was the sleek Austrian torpedo lying on the beach, forthe Dulcinos are famed on the Adriatic coast because of their timidity. 

Time passed drearily. The only amusement we had was to go and annoy thecaptain of the port by asking when we could have a boat. The wind wastoo cold for constitutionals, and we piled on all our clothes and sat onour knapsacks in the bar-room--for there was no fire--and talkedwistfully of sausages, Yorkshire Relish and underdone beefsteaks. 

We had much time for meditation, and pondered over the downfall ofSerbia. Why had the Serbian Government so resolutely refused to make anyterritorial concessions to Bulgaria, when it was obvious that the entryof Bulgaria into the conflict meant the ruin of Serbia? Why had theypermitted the Austrians to build their big gun emplacements on theDanube without interruption? Why had they not withdrawn to the hills andthen built proper defences with barbed wire entanglements andlabyrinths? for properly entrenched they might have defied theAustro-German forces for months. Some day, perhaps, these questions mayhave to be answered. 

One day a party came in. They had passed through Vrntze much later thanwe, and we heard that Dr. Berry and an assistant had been seen hurriedlynailing boards on to the slaughter-house roof. They, too, had come bythe Novi Bazar route. They said that the other routes were deep in snowand that the sufferings of the army were terrible. That a great portionhad been hemmed in at Prizren, and that the Bulgars had shelled thepasses so that they could not escape. They themselves had escaped theadvancing Austrians by the skin of their teeth owing to good horses. 

[Illustration: UNLOADING THE "BENEDETTO, " SAN GIOVANNI DI MEDUA. ]

The snow came down, driving along the valleys and whitening all thehills; the cold grew more intense, and the desire for English beefsteaksbecame an obsession: one talked of little else--or of Christmas. Foodwas becoming scarce. The tinned mackerel was diminishing; some days wehad no bread. We walked once as far as Fabiano's wireless. The men wereliving in a shed made of wattle, and the Borra whistled through thecracks. There was a stove round which we sat while the men gave us tea;but the warmth it induced in one's face only intensified the feeling ofcold on the back. Outside in the snow was a long-distance telescope, andpeering through one could see the conning tower of the Austriansubmarine, a faint hump on the sea by the southernmost point. As wereturned to the cold hotel we passed the Montenegrin batteries: cannontoo small to be of any use and the gunners of which were all so ill thatthey could not handle them. 

Two Frenchmen had been in San Giovanni for ten days, and their anxietyto go was up to fever point. They took it in turns to stand "pourobserver, " wrapped up to their noses, in a doorway, watching the_Benedetto_ in case she should give them the slip. We called themTweedledum and Tweedledee. 

One night somebody rushed up to their room. Booted, they jumped out ofbed, and ran about overhead. We thirteen scrambled up and interceptedthem between the stairs and the door. "Pour observer, steam-funnel, "they shouted, and disappeared into the night, followed by their valetwith two hold-alls. They soon came back, very cold, and announced thatsteam had been seen issuing from the _Benedetto's_ funnel. They hadrushed to it in an open boat, and had learnt that the _Benedetto_ wasordered to be in readiness. She fumed quietly for three days, and thenwas commandeered by the Serbian Government. 

One day we saw a French aeroplane, an old friend of ours. Immediatelyevery one working in the port tore up hill, men jumped off the big boatsinto little ones and rowed like a cinematograph turned double speed. 

The commandant roared reassuringly from his attic window, and an officertried to beat the men back. Seeing us convulsed with laughter, theyturned sheepishly; but the little boats wagged on, people jumping intothe water as they neared shore. 

"Come and sit round my fire, " said the commandant. So we again imbibedcoffee and discussed courage. It was explained to us that none of themen in the boats were Montenegrins, and we politely agreed. 

Hearing that a Red Cross party was in the village people came and askedfor medical aid. We explained that we had no doctors, but they beggedus to come and see the invalids. 

Doctors and chemists were unobtainable, and soldiers were dying everyday. 

We had no hesitation in tackling the Montenegrin soldiers, for at leastwe could do no harm, considering that our whole pharmacopœia was alittle boracic, some bismuth capsules, Epsom salts, quinine, iodine, andone of the party owned a bottle of some patent unknown stuff, againstfever and many other ailments. 

We were first taken to the barracks in the evening, scrambling up astony hill. The building looked like the disreputable ruins ofsomebody's "Folly. " Half the roof was off, and the walls were full ofholes. We stumbled up some black steps and entered a huge dark barn withfour log fires down the centre of the room. 

Round these were huddled crowds of men. They pulled some rough planksout of a hole in the wall to let in the sunset light, and the icy Borrarushed in, playing with the smoke and setting the men to coughing. Hereand there on the ground were long mounds, covered completely with roughhand-woven rugs. These were the invalids, who moaned as the rugs werepulled off their faces. A great many had malaria; others had, as far aswe could see, very bad pleurisy; and one old Albanian with rattlingbreath was huddled up in a far corner, too miserable to speak. 

Whatmough sent for a dribble of camphorated oil he had stored in hisknapsack, "to cheer them up, " said he, and rubbed everybody who had painand a cough. 

"Give them hot drinks, " said Jo, in a large way. "Milk or--"

"Milk! There is no milk in Medua, " said the sergeant. 

"No tinned milk--eggs to be bought?"

"Nothing, no meat; we have not even enough bread, and that is all weget. "

Very depressed, we sent them the remains of our Bovril and some tins ofmilk from the tiny hotel store, and bought the last three eggs in theplace. 

"Can't you send for more?" we asked. 

"The hens are five hours away, " said the proprietor, and didn't see whyhe should send for eggs even if we paid heavily for them. He hadmalaria--and nothing mattered. 

We saw our patients daily, and the ones who weren't going to die got alittle better, so this made our reputation. People poured in from thehills around, and we were much embarrassed. Our white-lipped waiterconfided to each member of the party that he had a lump on his knee. 

Every one became very busy and put off looking at it. We discussed it. 

What could a lump on the knee be which did not make a busy waiter limp?And what on earth could we do for him when he wouldn't rest, and we werereduced to boracic powder and bismuth capsules? We gave him a tube ofquinine, though, for his next attack of malaria. 

The longer we rested in San Giovanni the more hopeless seemed the chanceof getting away from it. The Serbian Government was close on our heels, and once they caught us up, there would be little left for us. Thatevening we were sitting with the Frenchmen, it was Monday. They, too, were depressed, and at last Tweedledum said--

"We shall never reach Paris, we shall be here for ever and ever. "

"Oh, " said Jan, rashly, "I think we ought to be home in a week. "

Dum put on the superior French air, which is aggravating even in a niceman. 

"Vous croyez?" he said. 

"I'll bet on it, " said Jan. 

"A dinner, " answered Dum. 

"Good, " said Jan. 

This lent a new interest to life. 

The very next day the Frenchmen told us that the Serb Government hadarrived at Scutari; the Montenegrin Governor had telegraphed tocommandeer and keep back the _Benedetto_. We had been forgotten, and theFrench boat was to leave at dawn under escort. 

She had been strictly forbidden by her owners to take passengers, butthe Frenchmen had arranged through their minister to go by that boat ifshe left the first. 

Telegraphic communication with the English minister at Cettinje waspractically impossible; the only thing was to appeal to the captain. First we rushed up the hill, and interviewed Captain Fabiano, who hadalready made various efforts to get us off. He promised to try andinfluence the French captain. 

Then we flung ourselves into a boat and made for the little steamer. People were looking at something with opera glasses, and our boatmentook fright and wanted to row straight for land. Jan cursed them somuch, however, that they began to fear us more than imaginary submarinesor aeroplanes, and brought us alongside the vessel. 

The captain was ashore, taking a walk; the crew very sympatheticallymade contradictory suggestions as to his whereabouts. 

At last we caught him. He was nice, but had strict orders, he said, totake no one. 

"But, monsieur, " we said, "if we were swimming in the sea, or cast offon a desert island, you would rescue us. "

He admitted it. 

"Well, what is the difference? Here we cannot get away; the food isgrowing less and less. "

He objected that he had no boats, and no life-saving apparatus. 

"That is nothing. We must get away from here. We will give you a papersaying that it is on our own responsibility. In this country one cannottelegraph, the telegrams never arrive. You know the Balkans. "

He smiled. 

"Oui, oui, c'est un pays où le Bon Dieu n'a pas passé, ou au moins il apeut-être passé en aeroplane. "

At last he agreed to take us if we could get a letter from Fabiano, andso take the responsibility from his shoulders. This we got. Fabiano said"Au revoir, bon voyage" for the fifth time, and at dawn we got a call, and quitted the bar-room floor for ever. Fabiano wished us "bon voyage"for the sixth time in the chilly dawn, and we embarked. 

The mate, a little round man, greeted us, and in the moments when theywere not rushing about with ropes and chains the cook explained theAustrian submarine attack. 

"You see, monsieur et dame, " said he, "they came in over there. The_Benedetto_ was lying outside of that sandbank, and that is the torpedowhich is lying on the beach. The one aimed at us came straight, onecould see the whorls of the water coming straight at us, but it justtipped the sandbank and dived underneath our keel. It stuck in the mudthen, and the water boiled over it for a long while. "

The mate cut one of the anchors because they were afraid of fouling thesunken torpedo, and we steamed slowly out from the shelter of thesandbank. 

No escort was visible, and soon the sailors began to look anxious. Theyscanned the horizon anxiously. At last one cried, "There she is. " Faraway against the western dawn could be seen a thin needle mark of smoke. In half an hour we were quite close, an Italian destroyer was convoyinga small steamer. The destroyer swung round under our stern, while thesteamer, its funnels set back, raced for San Giovanni looking like afrightened puppy tearing towards home. The grey warship surged past us, and out towards the horizon once more, our captain shouting to them thathe could get to Brindisi by midnight. Far away on the sky-line could beseen the three funnels of a cruiser. 

We breakfasted on tinned mackerel, an unlucky dish. The _Harmonie_, empty of cargo, was like an eggshell in the water. She bounced androlled and bounded from wave to wave, half of the time her screw out ofthe water. The breakfast did not nourish many. Far on the horizon couldbe seen the destroyer and the cruiser sweeping in gigantic circles. 

Half a kilometre away a periscope suddenly appeared, then the submarinedived, rose once more, showing the rounded conning tower, dived, roseagain, like a porpoise at play. 

"See, " cried the sailors, "how well are we guarded. Outermost thecruiser, then the destroyer, and innermost the submarine. " The cruiserand destroyer took big sweeps once more and steamed off behind ustowards Cattaro. 

Our boat rolled its way from dawn to dusk. We sought refuge in the coalhole, some lay down in the little officers' cabin. After dark the seagrew more rough, and splashing over the deck drove even the most ill tofind shelter. Whatmough staggered to the companion, tripped oversomething, and fell the length of the stair accompanied by a hard objectwhich hit him and made hissing sounds like a bicycle pump. He was tooseasick to investigate, but next morning found the ship's tortoise lyingon its back and feebly waving its feet and head. 

Then the engines slowly ceased, and there was silence. What hadhappened? The steamer gave four timid hoots. The people in the cabin layin the darkness wondering if they had broken down, for it was not nearlymidnight. At last the mate came in. 

"Why, you're all in the dark, " he said. 

Some one asked, "When shall we get to Brindisi?"

"We're there, " said the mate. 

The steamer rocked on the sea, waiting for an escort through the minefield, lights were sparkling in the distance, and now and thenflashlights cut the dark blue of the sky. Great black ships surged by inthe gloom, ships with insistent queries as to who we were and whence wecame. 

At last an escort came: we were berthed and lay about waiting for thedawn. 

Long after day came the doctor, who passed us, and we stepped ashoresaying--

"Thank God we are back in Europe once again. "

Two days later San Giovanni was bombarded by an Austrian cruiser, andall the shipping was sunk, _Benedetto_ and all. 

We were heartily welcomed in Brindisi by the English colony, and at theconsul's office learned that the submarine was an Austrian, and that thecruiser had made the sweep to chase it away. Jo, Miss Brindley, and Janwent to Rome, where they ere feasted by more English, while atMilan--where the rest of the party spent the night--a whole theatrestood and cheered them when they came in. 

Jan won his bet by four minutes. 

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Route Map of the Authors' Wanderings]

INDEX

Albania, 109, 154, 185

Alessio, 351, 355-359, 362

Andrievitza, 126, 128, 133, 326

Belgrade, 228, 229

Berane, 114, 291, 294, 295, 326

Brindisi, 360, 374

Cattaro, 94, 156

Cettinje, 48, 64, 78, 85, 91, 92, 96, 121, 123, 139, 205, 297, 336, 337

Chabatz, 229

Chainitza, 42, 49, 52, 53, 66

Danilograd, 87

Dechani, 147, 152, 157, 158, 190

Dormitor Mountains, 64, 74, 75

Dreina, 57

Durazzo, 350, 356, 360

Ebar River, 250, 267, 268

Gorazhda, 57, 59

Gotch, 236

Gussigne, 122

Ipek, 114, 122, 124, 132, 134, 143, 144, 145, 154, 175, 294, 330

Jabliak, 64, 70, 74

Jabooka, 129, 131, 330, 331

Jakovitza, 114

Kolashin, 132

Kossovo, 176, 178

Krag, Kragujevatz, 198, 209, 212, 213, 223, 224, 238, 243, 252, 262, 280, 330

Kralievo, 213, 241, 242, 262, 282

Krusevatz, 7, 24, 25, 194, 196, 237, 241

Lapovo, 259

Liéva Riéka, 134, 327, 334

Lim River, 36

Macedonia, 154, 184, 185

Metalka, 51

Mitrovitza, 155, 175, 176, 255, 261, 262, 275, 280, 288, 291, 292, 298

Morava, 1

Negbina, 35

Nickshitch, 66, 80, 83

Nish, 10-14, 20, 21, 40, 190, 235, 236, 275, 279

Novi Bazar, 68, 230, 239, 262, 275, 280, 284, 288, 292, 294

Novi Varosh, 33, 35, 36

Obrenovatz, 228

Plavnitza, 107, 116, 341

Plevlie, 38, 41, 43, 62, 72, 77, 80, 114, 165, 171, 294

Plav, 122

Pod, Podgoritza, 64, 85, 88, 89, 90, 101, 124, 125, 127, 189, 326, 328, 335, 339

Posheravatz, 229

Prepolji, 36, 37, 54

Prizren, 349

Rashka, 257, 259, 265, 275, 279, 300, 308

Rieka, 99, 124

Rudnik, 172, 223

Salonika, 15-17, 20, 44, 46, 190, 193

San Giovanni di Medua, 346, 351, 355, 360

Sanjak, 87, 96, 114, 154, 294

Soutari, 76, 84, 92, 94, 97, 101, 105, 107, 108, 110, 112, 113, 114, 122, 147, 217, 275, 326, 344

Shavnik, 76, 84

Shar Dagh, 180

Sofia, 64

Studenitza, 249, 278

Tara, 68

Tarabosch, 103

Trsternick, 25

Tutigne, 295, 299, 303, 304

Uskub, 14, 18, 180, 182, 183, 184, 186, 225, 238, 275, 288, 291

Uzhitze, 1, 3, 27, 28, 38, 40, 48, 277

Valievo, 295

Vela, 236

Velika, 137

Virbazar, 117

Voinik Mountains, 75

Vranje, 235, 236

Vrbitza, 319

Vrnjatchka Banja, Vrntze, 2, 18, 26, 27, 190, 194, 196, 198, 227, 245, 261

Zaichar, 13, 236

Zlatibor, 31, 33

THE END

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