e._ which has the deepest ruts), after which an
Austrian surveyor shall map it and mark it, 'Road to There.' Should the
ruts become so deep that the carts are sliding upon their bottoms rather
than travelling upon their wheels, an overseer must be sent to throw
stones at it. He and ten devils worse than himself shall heave rocks
till they think they have hurt it enough, when they may return home,
leaving the road ten times worse than before, for the boulders by no
means are to fill the ruts, but only to render them more exciting."
Oh, we walked. Indeed, we walked a good deal more than the driver
thought complimentary, we got out at every uphill, and put steam on so
that we should not be caught on the downhills. By supreme efforts we
managed to get in four hours' walking out of the torturous thirteen.
Once--when we were a long way ahead--we were stopped by a gendarme.
"Where are your passports?" demanded he.
"In the post-waggon," replied Jan.
"Why did you leave your passports in the post-waggon?"
"Because they were in the pocket of my great-coat.
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