g the second place, and would
by no means go third. At last we reached the top of Zlatibor--which gets
its name from a peculiar golden cheese which it produces. The view is
like that from the Cat and Fiddle in Derbyshire, only bigger in scale,
and from thence the ride began to be interminable. It grew darker, we
walked down the hills to ease our aching knees, and Jan decided that
horse riding was no go.

Finally the guide decided that it was too late to reach Novi Varosh that
night, and so the direction was altered. The road grew stony and more
stony. A bitter breeze came up with the evening. We came to a green
valley, at the end of which was a rocky gorge, down which ran the
twistiest stream: it seemed as though it had been designed by a lump of
mercury on a wobbling plate. We turned from the gorge on to a hill so
rocky that the path was only visible where former horse-hoofs had
stained the stones with red earth.

The village consisted of an enormous school, a little church, soldiers
encamped round fires in the churchyard, and seven or eight wooden
hovels. Our guide stopped at the door of the dirtiest and rapped. A
furtive woman's face peered out into the gloom. We climbed painfully
from our saddles, for we had been thirteen hours on the road.

"Beds?" said the guide to the woman.

"Good Lord!" thought we.

She shook her head dolefully and said, "Ima," which means "there is."
Serbians nod for no. The woman slid out into the night and passed to
another building, climbed the stairs to a veranda and disappeared.

It grew colder, the guide was busy unharnessing the horses, so shivering
we sought refuge in the dirty house, which was not quite so bad within
as we had feared. It was furnished with a long table and two benches
only, and was lighted by a small fire which was burning on a huge open
hearth, and which gave no heat at all. The woman came back and led us to
the other house for supper, which was boiled eggs, and the guide
generously shared his own bread with us, as we had none. There was no
water to drink, and Jo tried, not very successfully, to quench her
thirst with rakia.

There were but two beds, and on inquiry finding that there was no place
for the guide, we allotted one bed to him. On our own bed the sheets had
evidently not been changed since it was first made, and the pillow which
once had been white was a dark ironclad grey. We undid our mackintoshes
and spread them over both counterpane and pillow.