To Egri-Palanka, the frontier town at which we proposed to leave the carriage and take to our legs, was a two days’ journey. We spent the intervening night at a lone khan, miles away from any other habitation. The Turk protested, and attempted to draw up at a Turkish blockhouse, but by vigorous methods we got the horses past this danger spot at a pace which did not give the Turkish officer time to make up his mind.
Stable for beast and stable for man were one and the same at the khan, and the Turk declared the Christian food unfit to eat. We had eggs which had seen better days, gritty black bread, and goat’s milk with wool in it. Alexander and the Turk consumed a quantity of heady wine and advised us to do so, but we liked not the stuff. Supper over, we stretched ourselves out for the night, one upon the table, the rest on benches, the other alternative being the floorless ground. There were no rugs for us to lie on and no covering, and no one thought of undressing.
We had hardly laid ourselves down in this unholy place than the ‘plagues of Egypt gat about us.’ Even across the table from which we had supped half an hour before they came at us in battalions. Alexander and the Turk, insensible with drink, groaned and tossed, but snored nevertheless; sleep, however, was impossible for us. We shook ourselves, unbarred the doors, and escaped to the still high road, which we paced most of the night. It was too cold to sleep.
Through the windows we saw the sleepers by the dim light of a taper, tossing and fighting. This was some comfort to us.
‘I’m glad,’ said the Man of Yorkshire when Alexander the Bulgar emerged much scarred from the battle of the night, hundreds of the enemy lying dead upon the expanse of his sturdy chest, ‘I am glad all was not peaceful with you and the Turk.’
‘You mistake,’ said Alexander; ‘we slept profoundly.’
‘Why, we saw you tossing all night long, and your groans were pitiful.’
‘Ah, monsieur, we drank well at supper; and though the arms moved and the mouth talked the eyes remained closed.’
After vast deviations to ford streams and avoid bridges, we arrived at Egri-Palanka. As we expected, a smiling police officer awaited us on the outskirts of the town. Our escape from Uskub had been discovered, our direction traced, and instructions to turn us back had been wired on. After many gracious bows and compliments, the policeman invited himself into our carriage, and never again left us until we left Egri-Palanka. He conducted us to the khan, where he was joined by several gendarmes. The polite chief introduced us to the others, announcing that they were for our service and safety, and we all salaamed and shook hands.
After a meal, a wash, and a short rest, we went, followed by the gendarmes, to visit the gypsy quarter, the kaimakam, and other sights. When we left the town to climb to the Bulgarian monastery a troop of soldiers suddenly appeared to augment our following. The Englishman and I could have outstripped the ill-conditioned Turks in a mile, but it was part of the game we were playing to pretend to despise walking, and we stopped a dozen times to rest, feigning fatigue.