Nobody would take paper money unless we bought ten francs'
worth. After waiting an hour and a half we hunted down the colonel. The
telephone official told us he had got leave from the Government. At last
we found him in the mayor's office, bristling with papers and the
passport.
"I have got you an armed policeman as escort," he said, waving the
papers, "and the boy has a good horse, twenty pounds in gold, and twenty
in silver."
We found the boy waiting with the carriages. He wore a strange little
brown cashmere Norfolk jersey and very superior black riding breeches.
Dressed more romantically he would have made an ideal Prince for an
Arabian Nights' story. His father accompanied us until our Albanian
guide announced--
"Here begins the carriage road."
Their parting must have been a hard thing. The father could not tell how
his son's expedition would end, and the son was leaving his father to an
unknown fate. They embraced, smiling cheerily, and the boy rode on ahead
of us all, blowing his nose and cursing his horse.
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