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"The Luck of Thirteen Wanderings and Flight through Montenegro and Serbia"


"I was ravin' mad dat journey," he said. "I don' want ter go ter 'ell if
it's like dat."
They put him in hospital and treated him kindly; but once better they
threw him into a Turkish gaol. He described how the prison was dark as
night, because the poorer prisoners blocked up the windows, stretching
their arms through for doles from the passers-by.
"We was all eaten wi' lice," he went on, "an' if de folks 'adn't sent me
money an' food I'd a starved to def, sure. 'N den dey bribes de governor
'n a soldier, 'n dey lets me 'scape."
He lay a cripple in Montenegro six months, but in the summer crawled
down to the Bocche de Cattaro and on the sweltering shores of the
Adriatic built himself a primitive sweat bath. In a few weeks he was
better, and in a few months cured. He then went to the mines in America,
for he dared not return to Macedonia. He saved L800 and returned with
it to his sister's in Serbia, but was so oppressed by the misery about
him that he gave away all his money and went back.


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