India 2001 books

[Illustration: SERB CONVALESCENTS AT UZHITZE.]
Jo and Jan went for a stroll, Uzhitze, especially in the back
streets, is like a Duerer etching--that one of the Prodigal Son, for
instance, all tiny, peaky-roofed houses. We took a siesta in the
afternoon, but Jan was dragged out to talk to our professor, who
explained that it was impossible for the Serbian Government to find
thirty-two ox-carts at once, so the convoy must make two journeys. He
also said that horses would be provided for us, and that we would take
two or three days to do the trip, but that the ox-waggons would be at
least seven, which was death to our romantic dream of toiling
laboriously up almost inaccessible mountains at the head of straining
ox-carts, sleeping by the roadside, brigands, and all that.
We went down to the station, unloaded the truck and checked the numbers.
A few were missing, but not so many as we had expected.
A regiment of soldiers were called up; at a word of command they pounced
upon our packing-cases and hurried them off to a storehouse.


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