Sir Ralph came back next day, and knowing that we had but lately returned from Montenegro, he asked Jan a lot of questions about the road, etc.  Sir Ralph’s latest decision was that all men of military age—­not doctors—­should attempt to cross the mountains into Montenegro.  He could not say if any transport could be provided, or if there would be any means of escaping from Montenegro, and in consequence he advised no women to move, as they would be better where they were, than in facing the risks of the mountains; they would not be in the same danger as the orderlies, for whom internment was to be expected.  Dr. Holmes decided to accompany us, as he said he wasn’t going to doctor Germans, and he might be useful to the retreating Serbian army.  Ellis also said that he would come and would bring his car, which would help us at least some of the way.  Sir Ralph asked Jan to take charge of the party of the English Red Cross, and we went back to our rooms to repack, for Jo had already arranged things for internment, Mr. Blease decided to come with us.  Nobody knew what the dangers would be, or where the Austrians and Germans were, and many doubted if it were possible to get through.  The season was getting late, and snow was daily to be expected.  Some imaginative people enlarged on “the brigands” and “wolves,” but we did not think that they counted for much.  The chief problems were, if we could get shelter each night, and could we carry enough food to support us in case we could get none, which seemed very possible.

We got an order from Gaschitch for bread from the Serbian authorities.  We were going off into country, the real conditions of which nobody knew, and our friends took leave of us, many expecting to see us back in a few days.  The Austrian prisoners were very sad at our going.

The station was dark and gloomy, the little gimcrack Turkish kiosk—­like a bit of the White City—­was filled with Red Cross stoves and beds.  Two trains came in, but neither was for Kralievo; one was Red Cross and the other for Krusevatz.  A lot of boys, in uniform, clambered on board and shouting out, “Sbogom Vrntze,” were borne off into the night.  Our spirits fell lower and lower.  We thought of the friends we were leaving behind us, and of what we had before us.  The reaction had set in, intensified by the gloom and cold of the station.

Hours later the train arrived.  The only third-class carriage was filled to overflowing, people were standing on the platform and sitting on the steps.  We tried the trucks.  All were crammed so full that the doors could not be opened.

“You’d better go to-morrow,” said the station-master.

“We’re not going through that a second time,” we said.  “Can’t we climb on to the roof?”

We scrambled up.  There were other men there, lying in brown heaps.  We made some of them move up a little, stowed our blankets and knapsacks, and sat amongst them.

“Are you all right?” shouted the station-master.