found an inn. It was the usual sort of building only of stone, and so
dirtier than the others. Some travelling show seemed to have left its
scenery in lieu of its bill, for bits of painted canvas did duty as
partitions.

There was a room with six beds, but one was reserved for an Albanian
officer. We took the rest. We loitered about all the afternoon, and in
the evening the Albanian officer came in. He was a beaky-faced,
unpleasant-looking man, but he procured us some bread, which we sorely
lacked. The hotel had little food, so we gave them our rice. By this
time fleas had got into it, and seeming to like it had bred in
quantities. Still as we had nothing else it had to be cooked, and we
picked out the boiled fleas as well as we were able. The Serbian captain
started drinking with the Albanian, and soon both were well over the
edge of sobriety.

They came up long after we had turned in, fell over Cutting, who cursed
them without stint, and tumbled on to the beds which we had left for
them. The Albanian made some remarks about the ladies, which from the
tone were insults; but we were unable to chastize him, or we should all
have been put into prison.

They snored and coughed all night, and spat about in the dark. Those who
were sleeping near cowered beneath the mackintosh sheets and prayed for
luck. But in the morning we found that they had been spitting on the
wall.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIV

"ONE MORE RIBBER TO CROSS"

The Mayor of Alessio had said that there were lots of horses, if we had
Essad'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. Jan
first wrote a very stiff letter to the Governor of Scutari about the
non-arrival of the telegram, and off we went, having borrowed oilskins
and 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 deep
ponds which nearly joined each other, so Jo tucked her now ragged skirt
into a bright woven Serbian belt and walked along with the water
streaming from coat to boots. It became rather a pleasure to splash
through ten-inch deep puddles, knowing that one could not possibly get
any wetter, and this joy was intensified by the knowledge that the
Serbian captain was being soaked and didn't like it.

San Giovanni consists of a series of hut