Round About the Carpathians

by Andrew F. Crosse

In another moment we had both sprung to our feet, most thoroughly roused from our apathy; the fact was, a big brute of a sheep-dog suddenly jumped in upon us, barking loud and fiercely. We very soon found means to rid ourselves of the dog, but that was the least part of the incident. It appeared that the noise and suddenness of the outburst had so frightened our horses that they took to their heels and galloped off as hard as they could tear. Of course we were after them like a shot, but they had gone all manner of ways. I spotted my little Servian nag breasting the hill to our right in grand style; the saddle-bags were beating his flanks. A pretty race we had after those brutes of horses! We had to jump ditches, and struggle up sandbanks, tear through undercover, and finally H—— got "stogged" in a treacherous green marsh. Was there ever anything so exasperating and ridiculous?

After running more or less for three-quarters of an hour in a sweltering heat, we came upon the horses in an open glade in the wood, where they were calmly regaling in green pastures, like lotus-eaters themselves. Never from that day forward have I forgotten the necessary duty of picketing my horse.

It was well on in the afternoon before we got to Dognacska, a mere mining village, but prettily situated in a narrow valley. On approaching, we found it to be a more uncivilised place than we had expected, and we had not expected much. The children ran away screaming at the sight of two horsemen, so travellers, I expect, are unknown in these parts. We found out a little inn, indicated by a wisp of straw hanging above the door, and here we asked to be accommodated; they were profuse in promises, but as there was no one to look after the horses, we had to attend to them ourselves. The woman of the house said the men were all out, but would be back presently. We only took a little bread and cheese, but ordered a substantial supper to be ready for us on our return later in the evening. The fact was, we were in a hurry to be off to look at the works. Lead, silver, iron, and copper are found at Dognacska, but the working at present is a dead-alive operation. The blast-furnaces for making pig-iron are of recent construction, but the smelting-furnaces were very antiquated.

It was the same answer everywhere, "All belongs to the Marquis of Carrabas;" in other words, the States Railway Company owns both mines and forests in all directions throughout the Banat, though at the same time I was told that they do not undertake metallic mining.

From what I gathered it would seem that the mines round here are not really very rich. You cannot depend on the working as in Cornwall, for they are without regular lodes. A rich "pocket" occurs here and there, but then is lost, the deposit not holding on to any depth.

We made a considerable round, and returned with appetites very sharp set, and counted on the chicken with paprika that we had ordered to be ready for us. On arriving at the little inn, great was our disgust to find it utterly silent and deserted; neither man, woman, nor child was to be found in or about the place. With some difficulty we caught some children, who were peering at us behind the wall of a neighbour's house, and from these blubbering little animals, who I believe thought we were going to make mince meat of them, we at length extracted the fact that the people of the inn were gone off haymaking. This was really too bad, for if they had only told us, we could have made our arrangements accordingly, but here we were starving and not the remotest prospect of supper. There was no use wasting unparliamentary language, so I began foraging in all directions, while H—— busied himself in cutting up wood to make a fire, a process not too easy with an uncommonly blunt axe. My researches into the interior of the dwelling were not encouraging; the fowl was not there, neither was the paprika. At length I discovered some eggs and a chunk of stale bread stowed away in a corner; there were a great many things in that corner, but "they were not of my search"—ignorance is bliss.

H—— had done his duty by the fire; he had even persuaded the water to boil, which I looked upon as the beginning of soup. Happily for us I had my co-operative stores with me. From the depths of one of my saddle-bags I drew out a small jar of Liebig's meat—a spoonful or two of this gave quality to the soup. I added ten eggs and some small squares of bread, flavouring the whole mess with a pinch of dried herbs, salt, and pepper—all from "the stores." The result was a capital compound: in fact I never tasted a better soup of its kind; we enjoyed it immensely. We had barely finished when in came the woman of the house; she looked very much surprised, grumbled at our making such a large fire, and made no apology for her absence.

No one came in to clean and feed our horses, and though I offered a liberal trinkgeld to any man or boy who would attend to them, not a soul could I get, they all slunk away. I believe they are afraid of horses at Dognacska. Self-help was the order of the day, and we just had to look after the poor brutes ourselves.

We slept in the inn. My bed was made up in the place where I had found the eggs and bread. I imagine it was the "guest-corner." I do not wish to be sensational, and I am no entomologist, therefore I will not narrate my experiences that night; but I thought of the Irishman who said, "if the fleas had all been of one mind, they could have pulled him out of bed." Fortunately the summer nights are short; we were up with the early birds, and started before the heat of the day for Moravicza, another mining village.

It was a pretty ride. We went for some way alongside a mineral tramway, which followed the bend of a charming valley. Then we came upon a new piece of road, made entirely of the whitest marble; it looked almost like snow. Afterwards our track lay through a dense forest of majestic trees. We could not have found our way unassisted, but one of the mine inspectors from Dognacska had been sent with us. It was a delicious ride, the air still cool and fresh. Sometimes we were in the forest, and later, skirting a rocky ravine, we followed for a while a mountain stream. It was rough work for the horses, and once, when leading my horse over a narrow foot-bridge, he slipped off and rolled right over in the bed of the stream. Luckily he was none the worse for the accident: these small Servian horses bear a great deal of knocking about. It was surprising that the baggage did not suffer, but except getting a little wet, there was no harm done.