had learnt and showed me quite clearly
that a plot to put Prince Mirko on the throne of Serbia at no
distant date, was believed to exist.

That most wily of Royal stud-grooms, Prince Nikola, had so married
his family that he undoubtedly believed that "What he lost on the
roundabouts he would gain on the swings," and that his position as
Head of Great Serbia was assured.

Having heard so much of the Petrovitches as the natural lords of
Great Serbia, this plan did not seem to me so unreasonable. But I
soon found it had very little support in Serbia. Only in the extreme
south--at Ivanjitza, Studenitza and thereabouts did I find
Montenegro at all popular.

Elsewhere it was looked on with jealousy and suspicion. The
Montenegrins, folk said, were incurably lazy and very dirty, and
their immigration into the country was not desired.

Some Montenegrin students came to the Serbian schools, but were
denounced as ungrateful and impossible. A Montenegrin, I was told,
was a lout who would sit all day on the doorstep wearing a revolver
and doing nothing, and would expect high pay or at least good keep
for so doing. In 1898 the Serb Government had actually forbidden the
immigration of Montenegrins.

In brief, it was clear Serbia would not accept a Montenegrin Prince
at any price, and Mirko's chances were nil.

Montenegro was despised. Bulgaria was hated--was the enemy, always
had been and always would be.

But even after I had been accepted by the country strange things
still happened.

At Kraljevo there was almost a fight over me between the Nachelnik
(Mayor) who ordered me to leave next day, and a man to whom I had
been given a letter of introduction. He said I should stay: the
other that I was to go, and they shouted at each other till both
were scarlet.

When mentioning this later to a company of Serbs they asked "What
was the name of the man you had an introduction to?" I gave it. They
exchanged glances. "That family was in trouble formerly about the
murder of Prince Michel" was all that was said. He was in point of
fact a partisan of the Karageorgevitch family. And the Mayor was a
pro-Obrenovitch.

At Kragujevatz I fell right into the Karageorgevitch party. That I
met them in strength in Kragujevatz is now a matter of interest. At
the time I little dreamed that from this straggling big village--it
could hardly be called a town--would emanate bombs that would set
Europe on fire.

The Royal Arsenal is at Kragujev