"There are cases full of boots on the railway," said some one, consoling.

"But those are men's boots," said another.

Part of the morning we spent sitting on the banks of the Ebar River and watching the bridge, wondering if Ellis would come with his car. Ten times we thought we could see it, and each time were deceived.

The French aeroplanes came in. They hovered over the town seeking a flat place, finally swooping down on to the marshy plain on which the "Stobarts" were encamped. They landed, dashing through the shallow puddles and flinging the water in great showers on every side. As each landed it wheeled into line and was pegged down. Behind them was a line of cannons, the Serbian engineers were hard at work, smashing off their sighting apparatus, destroying the breech blocks, and jagging the lining with cold chisels. Some of the cannon were Turkish. All the morning, through the noise of the town, the shouting of the bullock drivers, the pant of the motor cars, and the steady tap, tap of the engineers'

mallets, came the faint booming of the battle at Mladnovatch, not fifteen miles away.

After lunch we went again to the cafe. Again it was full, and we were forced to wait for a table. Just as we sat down a woman with a drawn, anxious face came up to us, clutched Jo by the arm and said eagerly--

"Is it true that you are going to Montenegro?"

"Yes," answered Jo. "If we can get there."

"Could you give me only a little advice, madame? You see we do not know what to do. My husband--he is an old man, and he is an Austro-Serb. If the enemy catch him they will hang him."

"I'm afraid he will have to walk," said Jo.

"But he is so old," said the woman, with tears in her eyes; "he is fifty."

"We ourselves will have to walk," said Jo. "Make him a knapsack for his food. Give him warm clothes. It is his only chance of safety. And," she added, "the sooner he gets away the better, for in a little all the food on the road will be eaten up, and one will starve."

The woman thanked us. "I will make him go at once," she said, and ran out wringing her hands.

A Russian woman with a thin-faced man sat at her table.

"You are going to Montenegro?" she said.

We nodded.

"I too am going. I am a good sportswoman. I have walked fifty kilometres in one day."

We looked at her well-corseted figure, her rather congested face, and had already seen thin high-heeled shoes.

"I will come with you, yes?"

The little man interrupted. "Why do you say such things, Olga? You know that you cannot walk a mile."

We pointed out that we were going to march across the Austrian front, and that no one could tell us where the Austrians were exactly; that our safety depended to some extent on our speed, and that the failure of one to make the pace meant the failure of all. The little man drew her away.

In the afternoon a miserable fit of depression took us, but we pushed it behind us. To the hospital for tea, taking with us a tin of cocoa and some condensed milk, which the people lacked. Biscuits and treacle, the treacle looted from the railway, where an obliging guard had said that he could not give permission to take it, but that he could look the other way. We heard the tale of Kragujevatz, of the camp and all the buildings filled to overflowing. More aeroplane raids; and of the sudden order to evacuate. All the wounded who could crawl were got from their beds and turned into the street by the authorities to go: if they could not walk, to crawl. A few Serb and Austrian doctors were left to guard and watch those too ill to go; with them some Swedish and Dutch sisters, and the Netherlands flag flying from the hospitals. Dr. Churchin seemed to have been the good genius of the Missions, never flagging in his efforts for them.

We heard that a Colonel Milhaelovitch was the bread officer. He lived somewhere in the back of the big yellow schoolhouse at the end of the street. After tea we wandered drearily down to seek him, gained permission from a sentry, and clambered up some stone stairs. Jan saw an acquaintance from the Nish ministry, asked him a question, and was ushered ... straight into the Ministry of War. They seemed in a frightful stew about something, an air of disorder reigned everywhere, but somebody found time to look at the order.

"Nachanlik," said he.

"We've been there already."

"Well, go there again and say we sent you, and that they must give you bread."

We were worn out by this. Jo went off to the plank bed which the Stobarts had promised to her, while Jan and Blease to the tents, where Sir Ralph's men were sheltering.

All the streets were edged with motionless bullock carts, in which men were sleeping, and even in the mud between their wheels were the dim forms of the weary soldiery. The two splashed across the marsh and found the tents.

Rogerson and Willett were there; Willett was seedy. Another Englishman named Hamilton, who had an umbrella which he had sworn to take back with him to England. Also two Austro-Serb boys who had been acting as interpreters.

West and Mawson were not there. Rogerson said that Sir Ralph had sent them with Mrs. M----to see the road and conditions at Mitrovitza; n.o.body knew when they would be back. We got two beds, but there were no mattresses on the springs. Jan rolled up in his Serbian rug, but it was loosely woven, and not as warm as he had hoped. Just not warm enough, one only dozed. About eleven o'clock, Cutting came in with Owen, Watmough, Hilder, and Elmer. They had come from Vrnjatchka Banja with Dr. Holmes. Some one had told them that we had deserted them and had gone off to Rashka on our own; they were cheered to find us still there.

After that we lay awake discussing details. None of them had realized the difficulties of the road and the probable lack of food, though the Red Cross men had brought with them a case of emergency rations. Jan exposed his idea of the route; somebody said that there was some corned beef and rice in a Red Cross train on the siding.

Intermittently in the silences one could still hear the sound of the guns.

Next morning at breakfast Dr. Holmes came in. He had thought us gone, and so had procured for himself and the sister who was with him, seats in a Government motor which was going to Mitrovitza. We all splashed across the marshy gra.s.s to the siding where the stores were. In the empty trucks on the line families were camping, and some had fitted them up like little homes. We found the truck, and with efforts dug out twelve tins of corned beef, a case of condensed milk, one of treacle, and two tins of sugar. We emptied a kitbag and filled it with rice.

The hospital was fuller than ever. The Scottish nurses were toiling as quickly as they could, and each man received a couple of hard ship's biscuits from a great sack, when his wounds were dressed. He immediately wolfed the hard biscuits and lay down; in one minute he was asleep, and the hospital grounds were strewn with the sleeping men. From time to time sergeants came in, roused the sleepers, formed them into detachments, and marched them off.

The Stobarts met us wringing their hands. There was no bread, nor could they procure any. Jan took their order, and we promised to see what could be done. As we pa.s.sed the station we saw surging crowds of men, from the midst came cries of pain, and sticks were falling in blows.

"Good Lord, what's that?" we cried.

We plunged into the crowd. Some of the men and boys were gnawing angrily at pieces of biscuit which they held in their hands. The crowd surged more violently, the sticks were plied with greater vigour; presently the crowd fell back snarling. The ground which they left was covered with the crumbs of trampled biscuit, and the soldiers drove the crowd yet further back, beating with sticks and cursing. A bread sack being unloaded from a waggon had burst, the hungry crowd had pounced ...

that was all. As we withdrew we saw the fortunate ones still gnawing ferociously at the hard morsels which they had captured.

We took our pa.s.ses to the mayor once more. He received us angrily.

"I told you yesterday," he said.

"The War Office sent us," said Jan, sweetly, "and said that you must give us bread."

"I have no bread," said the mayor. "You must go to Colonel Milhaelovitch."

We tramped back to the yellow school. There was no sentry, and a queer air of forlornness seemed to pervade. We asked a loiterer for the colonel's office. He pointed. We climbed yet another stair and found a pair of large rooms; they were empty. Town papers were scattered on the floor, one table was overturned.

A man lounged in. "Where is the colonel?" we asked.

"Ne snam bogami," he said, twisting a cigarette.

"Well, find out," said Jan.

He lounged away and presently returned with another.

"The colonel has evacuated," said the other; "he went naturally with the Ministry of War to Rashka last night."

We went back in a fury to the mayor.

"You knew this," we cried angrily to him.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Where can we get bread?"