he captain sent to
say that twenty horses would await us the next day. A motor car would
have been sent, he added, but almost all the bridges were washed away
and they could get no nearer than Lieva Rieka.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXII

ANDRIEVITZA TO POD

A problem met us in the morning. Willett was quite ill and only fit for
bed. But bed was impossible. We had just escaped from the sound of the
guns, and did not know which way the Austrians were coming. To wait was
too risky; others would certainly get seedy and sooner or later some one
might get seriously ill. We felt we must push on to Podgoritza and be
within 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 and
they parted company. We tried chlorodyne followed by brandy with better
effect. 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 better
have it decently and in order at Podgoritza, than stand the chance of
being suddenly surprised by the Austrians and made to walk endless
distances. So we heaved him on to a wooden pack, and the other
chlorodyney figures of woe climbed on to the remaining queer-looking
saddles.

Blease tried a horse which had a thoughtful eye. It kicked him on the
knee, and trod on his toe, so he relinquished the joy of riding for the
serener pleasure of walking. Jan clambered on to it, whereupon it stood
on its forelegs, and as there were no stirrups and the saddle back hit
him behind, he landed over its neck, remaining there propped up by a
stick which was in his hand. After readjusting himself inside the two
wooden peaks of the saddle, he testified his disapproval to the beast,
and trotted away in style, leaving a row of grinning Montenegrins and
boys behind with the exception of one who clung to reins and other bits
of saddlery, imploring him to stop. It would seem as if pack ponies were
never meant to trot, but at last he shook off the pony boy, passed Miss
Brindley (whose horse was looking at himself in a puddle with such deep
and concentrated interest that he pulled her over his head and landed
her 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 in
front with the dri