He then asked the corporal if he would take flour instead of bread.  The corporal agreed, adding that in that case, of course, they would get a bit more.

“Of course, you won’t,” said the commandant.

We sent the corporal back to the camp with the loaves, and with a little trouble found the house where Colonel P——­ and Admiral T——­had lodgings.  It was a gay little cottage, and both were at breakfast.  They welcomed us and generously offered us their spare eggs, though eggs were scarce.  The admiral had a large-scale map—­made, of course, by Austria—­and we hunted it for our road.  Paths were marked quite clearly, and houses at most convenient intervals.  It seemed a far superior path to the Ipek pass, both regarding shelter and length.

“But,” we said, “Sir Ralph suggests that we go to Mitrovitza, because the Serbs say that Uskub will fall in a few days.”

“I should get out of the country as soon as you can,” said one.

“It is exceedingly unlikely that Uskub can fall,” said the other.  But they promised us as definite information as they were allowed to give if we would return for tea, by when the aeroplane reconnaissance should have come in.

We went back to the camp with the news.

Colonel G——­ came up and tried to wipe out the impression which he had made the evening before.  He repeated that Uskub must certainly fall within the week, and that we should be very silly to go off to Novi Bazar, which we could never reach because the bridge had been washed away.

All the hill behind was crowded with Austrian prisoners.  They had received one loaf between every three men, and said that it had to last three days.  They did not know where they were going.  Blease went through their lines, and at last found an old servant—­a Hungarian.  He was a stoic.

“One lives till one is dead,” said he.

The hospital was doing a brisk trade in wounded:  sisters and doctors both hard at work.  The “Stobarts” were resting, and had built a camp fire outside the door of their hovel.  We got lunch ready, ruining recklessly another biscuit tin.  While we were eating it a Serb came near.

“I am starving,” he said.

We gave him some curry and rice.  He devoured it.

“To-morrow,” he said, “I go back to commando.”

We pointed to his hand, which was bound in dirty linen.

“But?”

“It is better to go back though wounded than be starved to death.”

We also held a court of justice.  A driver complained that one of the Englishmen had given him a pair of boots and that the corporal had taken them.

“CORPORAL!!”

He came grinning.  We exposed the complaint.

“Certainly the man had a pair of boots,” said he; “but he has them no longer.  Now, they are mine, I have taken them.”

“But they were given to him.”

“But I have taken them.  I needed new boots.”  He exhibited his own, which were split.