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"Bogami Gospody," said the priest, wiping the copious tears, "I was once the happiest man in Bosnia; the sun never rose without my thanking God for having given me so much peace and happiness: but Ali Kiahya, where I lived, received information that I had money hid. One day his Momkes took me before him. My appeals for mercy and justice were useless.
"Bogami, don't believe her, gentlemen," he cried, "it's only a quarter of an hour." We left them quarrelling. It grew dark, and we grew miserable. Jabliak seemed like a dream, and we like poor wandering Jews, cursed ever to roam on detestable saddles in this queer pallid country. At last a peasant said it was five minutes off, and then it really was a quarter of an hour distant.
"Look," we cried to Bogami, "isn't that the shortest way? The wires go there." "Bogami," he replied; "wires can, horses can't, bogami." There is a fine military road to Chainitza, made by the Austrians, but it remains a white necklace on the hills, almost an ornament to the landscape.
"What have you for lunch?" we asked a solid-looking waiter boy. "Nema Ruchak, bogami." We have no lunch. We looked at all the other people absorbing meat and soup. "Give us what you have." "We have nothing, bogami." "Have you soup?" "Yes, bogami." "And cheese?" "Ima, ima, bogami." "That will do for us."
Jo, trying to cheer things up a bit, said brightly "Is it far to Andrievitza?" A woman mumbled, "Far, bogami." Jo again: "It is cold on the road." A long silence, broken with the sound of spitting, followed. At last a woman in the darkest corner murmured "Cold, bogami."
"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.
At the end of twenty minutes we asked once more. "Bogami, quarter of an hour." At the end of twenty minutes more we asked again, our spirits were falling. "Bogami, quarter of an hour." We then asked a peasant and his wife. The woman considered for a moment. "About an hour," she said. Her husband turned and swore at her.
We passed into a queer pallid country, pale grey houses, pale yellow or pale green fields, grey sky and stones, a violently rolling plain where our guide lost his way, and we became increasingly aware of the discomfort of our saddles, and prayed for the journey to end. We refound the route, and asked a peasant, "How far to Jabliak?" "Bogami, quarter of an hour." We cheered.
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."
"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.
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