ition. We came into most magnificent scenery,
the beauty of which made a deep impression even upon our empty selves.
There were deep green valleys, rising to peaks and hills which faded
away ridge behind ridge of blue into the distant Serbian mountains,
great pine woods of delicate drooping trees which came down and folded
in on every side, and though it was almost September there were
strawberries still ripe at the edge of the road, little red luscious
blobs amidst the green.

Metalka at one o'clock, and we were on the real Montenegrin frontier.
There are two Metalkas, a Montenegrin and an Austrian, and they are
divided one from the other by a strip of land some ten yards across
which rips the village in two like the track of a little cyclone. Bogami
directed us to a shanty labelled "Hotel of Europe." A large woman was
blocking the door; we demanded food, she took no notice. Hunger was
clamouring within us. We demanded a second time. She waved her hand
majestically to her rival in Austria, at whose tables Montenegrin
officers were sitting with coffee.

An officer greeted us.

"We had expected you yesterday," he said.

We waved to the horses.

"No horses."

"That is a pity," he murmured. "You see, there was something to eat
yesterday!"

In spite of his pessimism we got eggs and wine. Bogami had a large
crowd, to whom he lectured, and we sent him out some eggs.

After lunch we pushed on, in conquered territory. To Chainitza they said
was one hour and a half, it proved nearer three.

We joined some peasants, and they told us that they were going to the
great festival. The old mother halted at a sort of sheep pen by the
roadside; when she rejoined us she was wiping her eyes.

"That was my brother," she explained; "he was killed in the war;" for it
is the custom to erect memorial stones by the roadside. Many of these
are very quaint, sometimes painted with a soldier, or else with the
rifle, sword, pistols and medals of the deceased.

Chainitza lies in a backwater, where the deep valley makes a sudden
bend. When we came to it the sun was in our eyes, and halfway between
the crest and the river the town seemed to float in a bluish mist; two
white mosques stood out against the trees, and the roof of one was not
one dome, but many like an inverted egg frier, or almost as though it
was boiling over.

We were stopped at the entry by a sentry.

"Where are you going?"

"To the Russian Hospital."

He took us in