Georgio explained that before they came to the rapids they must pass the bridge that spanned the river near the hill-side village of Trebischte to their left. He threw out his hand to indicate the locality of the village.
“A bridge?” said Maurice. “Then there is a road, and we may still be intercepted.”
“That is true, excellence. The river makes many windings, and there are goat-tracks over the hills leading to Trebischte.”
“And if we run on to the land and cross the river by the bridge at Trebischte, what then?”
“Then, excellence, you will have a difficult path until you come to the road to Prizren.”
“The only thing to be done,” said George, “is to make all speed for the bridge, and get there first. I think old Giulika might have managed this a little better. Why didn’t he make straight for the bridge instead of leading us over that wretched mountain path?”
“He was discretion itself,” replied Maurice. “You remember we have not passed through a single village. The old man chose an unfrequented route to ensure that we should not be molested or checked.”
“I daresay you are right. I’ll set the propeller going, though I wanted to trust to the current alone, so as to save petrol. But if there’s a chance of those ruffians reaching the bridge before us, the faster we go the better.”
Almost immediately after the propeller was started there was a faint shout from some elevated spot on the left.
“They hear the buzz,” said Giorgio. “Trebischte is over there.”