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Charlie, the orderly, clung on by his eyelids in front, and off they went. We last saw two faces peering back at us beneath the fringe of the tent. They had no luck. Half-way to Uzhitze the cart upset and they were all rolled into the ditch, missing a precipice of sixty feet or so by the merest fraction.
G. was also in the town, and that the others were all coming shortly. Then we met a young staff officer from Uzhitze, who was noted for his bravery. The train came in and we stumbled up to it in the dark. There was a crowd of women about the steps in difficulty with heavy bags. Jan ran forward to help one. She turned round. It was a sister from Dechani. The rest turned round.
"Bogami," said Bogami; "when there are no horses these are good horses, Bogami." "Where is the secretary?" From Uzhitze we had good horses, from Prepolji moderate, now these; imagination staggered at what we should descend to if we did a fourth lap to Cettinje, for instance, but we climbed up. Jo with her queerly placed stirrups perched forward something like a racing cyclist.
Uzhitze in the morning at 4.30; it was cold and wet. Jan wanted to hurry off to the hotel, but Jo sensibly refused, and we settled down till a decent hour. The hotel was a huge room with a smaller yard; on the one side of the yard were the kitchens, etc., and on the other a string of bedrooms. Outside the mayor's office we found an old friend.
Within the office we found a professor whom we had met before, and who was acting as assistant mayor. We took him to the station and estimated that thirty-two waggons would deal with our stuff. Jo and Jan went for a stroll, Uzhitze, especially in the back streets, is like a Dürer etching that one of the Prodigal Son, for instance, all tiny, peaky-roofed houses.
A smartly dressed family was picnicking by the roadside, sitting on deck-chairs. Colonel P and Admiral T slipped by in a shabby little red motor. They stopped and told us they were going to Rashka. It was good to see English faces again. A familiar figure went by. It was the brave young officer from Uzhitze. We gave a lift to a footsore lieutenant, who laughed as we trudged in the mud.
She, a Russian girl, and an English orderly had driven from Plevlie, en route to Uzhitze. Half-way along the wheel of their carriage had broken in pieces, so they finished the road on foot. Curiously enough we had travelled from England to Malta with this lady, Sister Rawlins, on the same transport.
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