hem against the wall and stood there, three shapeless
bundles, until we were out of sight.

Jan's feelings were very much hurt, but he soon got used to being
treated like a dangerous dragon.

When we reached our hotel again we found the elite of the town waiting
in the bar-room for us. There was a huge jolly Greek priest, all big hat
and velvet, the prefect, the schoolmaster, a linguist, and the little
black-hatted man whom we had mistaken for a hotel tout.

The priest was president of the Montenegrin Red Cross, the prefect was a
former Prime Minister and a Voukotitch. All important men who are not
Petroviches are Voukotitches; the first being members of the king's and
the second of the queen's family.

The little black-hatted man was secretary of the Red Cross, and was
formally attached to us while there as cicerone. He explained to us that
they had all been in the hotel expecting us the night before, with a
beautiful dinner which had been prepared in our honour.

We apologized and inwardly noted the grateful temperament of the
Montenegrin. We were solemnly treated to coffee and brandy, and the
jolly priest emptied his cigarette box into Jo's lap. When the first
polite ceremoniousness had worn off we asked delicately about the front.

"Did we wish to see the front?"

Certainly, said the prefect, we should have the first horses that should
come back to the town, and the little transparent shadow man should
accompany us. And our letter to the Sirdar Voukotitch, commander in
chief of the north?--He should be told about it on his return that
evening from the front.

At sunset the muezzin sounded, cracked voices cried unmelodiously from
all the minaret tops. Immediately, as if it were their signal, all the
crows arose from the town, hovered around in batches for a moment,
chattering, and flew away up the hill to roost in the trees round the
hospital till sunrise.

Salonika rings with children's cries, Dawson city with the howlings of
dogs, but the towns of the Sanjak have no better music than the croaking
of carrion crows.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V

THE MONTENEGRIN FRONT ON THE DRINA

When Jan awoke it was dark, and he was with difficulty rousing Jo when
suddenly a voice howled through the keyhole that the horses were
waiting. Jan grabbed his watch--5 a.m.; but the horses had been ordered
for six. Hastily chewing dry biscuit, Jan jumped into his clothes and
ran down. There was a small squat youth w