A carriage passed laden with two tiny boxes—­a policeman on either side.  Although the boxes were small the carriage seemed so heavy that the horses could scarcely drag it, and two well-dressed men who were riding on the carriage often had to get out and push.  We wondered if the boxes were filled with gold.  The dreary processions of starving boys shuffled up again; some were crying, some helping others along, one had an English jam tin hanging round his neck.  Sir Ralph Paget appeared in a motor car, loaded with packages and three other people.  We stopped him, and he told Jan that at Novi Bazar he could get no information of the path which Jan suggested, and added that he advised us to come to Mitrovitza.  The Scottish women were to give up the idea of a dressing-station in Novi Bazar and to stop at Rashka.  The Serbs had told him that there was a good chance of Uskub being retaken, in which case we could all go comfortably to Salonika by rail.  In the other case, there were three roads out of the country from Mitrovitza, which he thought better than trusting to one road, if it existed.

Jan told him that the carriages were giving way under the strain of the tents, two of the axle struts having broken; and he suggested that if we did not jettison the tents, some of the carriages would probably never get as far as Rashka.  Sir Ralph told him to do what he thought best.

So we pitched the two heavy tops and the long bamboo poles overboard, keeping the sides.

“Oh, what are you doing with our tents?” said one of the Scottish nurses.

This was complicated!  We understood the tents were Sir Ralph’s.

All the men swore they were Sir Ralph’s tents, they had seen them at Nish.  The “Scottish Woman” said she knew the tents well, and they had cost L50 each.  The men from Nish still claimed the tents, and said that war was war and they had left thousands of pounds’ worth of stores, tents, etc., and had been obliged to discard even motor cars.

“And very extravagant it was of you,” she said.

Jan pointed out that if we did not leave the tents we should very shortly have to discard both tents and carts, which would be even more extravagant.

She reluctantly cheered up, and we drove away in the sunshine.  Before we turned the corner we could see an excited mass of soldiers, peasants, and boys rushing to the tents with their clasp knives.  Perhaps, as coverings, they saved many people’s lives on the cold nights to come.

[Illustration:  RETREATING AMMUNITION TRAIN.]

More and more exhausted oxen were to be seen lying by the roadside.  A huge cart drove over one.  We all arose in our seats, horrified—­but the old ox was all right, still chewing the cud.  Over the cliff lay the smashed remains of a cart—­its owners were flaying the dead horse.  A peasant with bowed head led his cart past us.  Drawing it was one ox—­its partner was in the cart,