Our fire had gone out, but
the Austrian had left enough wood, another was quickly started; but we
found that Angelo in making his curries had melted all the solder from
the empty biscuit tins and not one would hold water. So there was a
hurried transference of biscuits from a whole one.
From where we sat sipping our cocoa, we could see the hurried coming and
going of motors in the main square, and groups of bullock waggons and
soldiers about the fence of the church. A great street which split the
village in two from top to bottom--the old Turkish frontier--was almost
empty. The corporal proposed to visit the military commandant in search
of hay and bread. So Jan dragged on his wet boots and set off with him
down the hill, collecting Jo from the "Stobarts" on the way.
We crossed the rickety wooden bridge, passed between the _alfresco_
encampments--like travelling tinkers--of waggoners and soldiers which
lined the roads, up the great frontier street and so into the square.
All that now was SERBIA was concentrated in this little village.
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