India 2001 books

"Bogami," said Bogami; "when there are no horses these are good horses,
Bogami."
"Where is the secretary?"
"Bogami nesnam" (don't know).
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.
Bogami's horse was innocent of garniture, save for a piece of chain
bound about its lower jaw, but he slung his great coat over the saw edge
of its backbone and leapt on. He must have had a coccyx of cast iron. We
had to kick the animals into a walk--there were fifty kilometres to go.
After a while we began to wonder if it would not be quicker to get off
and foot it, but we did catch up and eventually pass a Red Cross Turk.
We saw a soldier striding ahead. By kicks and shouts we raised a sprint
along the level road; we drew even with him, and then began a race; on
the uphills we beat him, on the downhills he caught up and passed in
front.


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