titch, an ex-M.P. in national costume, acted as butler. In spite of
his seventy odd years he had joined the army as a common soldier. He
refused all invitations to sit with us, for he knew his place. The young
husband was his nephew, and they kissed fondly on leave-taking.

We rode back in the moonlight. At one spot on the road was a sawmill,
and the huge white pine logs lying all about looked like the fallen
columns of some ruined Athenian temple. We tried to enjoy the moment,
and to brush aside the awful thought that we must remount Rosinante and
Co. next day.

The Shadow was terribly puffed up about his feat. The following morning
as we were sketching in the town, an officer approached respectfully.

"His excellency the Sirdar invites you to supper," he said.

We considered a moment, for we had intended to return to Plevlie. The
Shadow broke in.

"It is inconvenient to come to supper," he said to our horror. "Tell his
excellency that the gentleman and lady will come to lunch if he wishes
it."

The Sirdar meekly sent answer that lunch would suit him very well, and
we could drive back with him to Plevlie. "Would we come to his house at
12.30?"

The Prefect told us that we ought to go to the lunch at twelve, because
the Sirdar's clock was always half an hour fast. We arrived, but the
Sirdar evidently had been considering us, he did not appear for the half
an hour, so we sat with his staff sipping rakia by the roadside.

The lunch was excellent, but the Sirdar's carriage, like every other
carriage in Montenegro, was a weird, ancient, rusty arabesquish affair,
tied together with wire. We had two resplendent staff officers, armed to
the teeth, who galloped ahead, we had two superior non-coms., also armed
to the dentals, galloping behind, while on the box sat a man with gun,
pistols, sword, dagger and a bottle of wine and water which we passed
round whenever the Sirdar became hoarse. The coachman was as old and as
shabby as his carriage, and every five miles or so was forced to descend
and tie up yet another mishap with wire--ordinary folks' carriages are
only repaired with string.

The Sirdar occupied almost the whole of the back seat, and Jo was
squeezed into the crack which was left. Jan was perched on a sort of
ledge, facing them. The carriage was narrow, six legs were two too many
for the space. Jan's were the superfluous ones. He tried this pose, he
tried that, but in spite of his contortions he endured much