weary limbs upon the rusty cushions. Our driver was a
cheery fellow, who only answered "quite" to everything we said. We drove
through miles of country so stony that all the world had turned grey as
though it had remembered how old it was. The road twisted and curled
about the mountains like the flourish of Corporal Trim's stick: below
one could see the road, only half a mile off as the crow flies, but a
good five miles by the curves. We were blocked by a great hay-cart. Our
driver shouted and cursed without effect, so he climbed down from the
box, and, running round the hay, slashed the driver of it with his whip.
We expected a free fight, but nothing occurred. When the hay had
modestly drawn aside, we found "only a girl." Poor thing! she looked
rueful enough.

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

A charming old major came to the inn to do us the honour we had
telegraphed for, and together we strolled about the streets. There is a
pretty Greek church at one end on a formal mound, and behind the town
runs a sheer fin of rock topped by an old castle where once had lived
another 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 green
figs. Undressing, Jan found a louse in his shirt--that came from the
dirty bedroom at Shavnik evidently. He went to bed, but his troubles
were not yet over; there was another foreign presence, a presence which
raised large and itching lumps. He hunted without success for some time,
but at last caught and exterminated an enormous bug. After which there
was 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 knocked
again, 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, a
beautiful little wooden chicken, behind for ever. The major was waiting
in the bar room.

We were sorry to say good-bye, he was lonely, and we liked him; but we
lost no time, as we were seven