urselves with paraffin, and lay down
again in a dismal distressed doze till morning.

Our driver was a dilatory dog: we had said that we would leave at five
a.m., and at six he was washing his teeth in the little stream which
acted as the village sewer. As we were waiting our green-coated friend
got away on his saddle horse, with his wife walking at its tail; the
other Americans climbed into a great three-horse waggon, dragged their
suit-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, the
hills were floating in mist, and there was a sharp shower. There were
more groups of Americans trudging along, and also a fair number of
peasants, the women, as usual, dignified and beautiful. Very hungry we
at last came to Jabooka. A jolly woman--we were getting away from
"Pod"--welcomed us and dragged us into the kitchen. She asked Jo many
questions, one being, "What relation is he to you, that man with whom
you travel?" The fire on the floor was nearly out, but she rained sticks
on to it, blew up the great central log, which is the backbone, into a
blaze, and soon the smoke was pouring into our eyes and filtering up
amongst the hams in the roof. We were drinking a splendid cafe au lait
when 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 see
the connection.

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

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

We halted once more at a cafe filled with Americans; some had only left
their native land six months agone, yet to the peasant they were all
"Americans." Some of th