all come for the festival, and who were
feasting and laughing as though the war did not exist. The courtyard was
filled with men and women in Bosnian costumes, white and dark red
embroideries. Through the open door of the church one could see the
silhouettes of the peasants bowing before the Ikons and relics. It was
almost dark, and one man began to play a little haunting melody upon a
wooden pipe, but though they linked arms and shuffled their feet, the
young men did not dance.

At supper the Shadow revealed a quaint sense of humour, and so to bed.

The next morning was lovely, and we started at seven with the youngest
Voukotitch and the others. Some officers had lent us their horses, and
Voukotitch had proudly produced his English saddle for Jo. On the road
the spirit of mischief entered him.

"You can ride all right," he said; "wouldn't you like to go to the
nearest machine-gun to the Austrian lines?"

"Rather," said Jo.

"You'll have to do some stiff riding, though. I know the major, and he
is bored to death. He'll let us."

"But what about the bullets?" said the Shadow.

In time the major was produced, emerging from a cottage by the roadside,
other officers with him, and we had a merry coffee party in an arbour.
One told Jo that he was a lawyer. The few Montenegrins who had the
misfortune to be educated were not allowed to serve at the front, but he
had been lucky enough through influence to be allowed to take a
commission. He had not seen much serious fighting, however, as no move
had been made for several months.

Then we tackled the hills. "Come along," said the major, cheerfully; and
his horse's nose went down and its tail went up, and off it slid
downhill. We had seen the Italian officers do such things on the
cinematograph, but little thought that we should be in the same
position. We supposed it would be all right. Jo's horse became nearly
vertical, and she sat back against its tail. Jan followed. Sometimes a
sheet of rock was across the path--then we slid; sometimes the sand
became very soft--we slid again. Then a muddy bit, and the horse
squelched down on his hind quarters.

Here we met a Serbian captain who was in charge of the battery. He was
very lonely, and delighted to have a chance to talk, and he talked hard
all day, showed us a neat reservoir his men had built, explained to us
that beautiful uniforms were coming from Russia soon for the weirdly
garbed beings who were guarding the hills,