So it proved. Taking turns to watch, they remained throughout the night in the cove, and when day broke felt refreshed by their rest. They breakfasted on the remnants of the food they had brought from Durazzo, and set off about 7 o’clock.
The voyage down the Black Drin was slow and uneventful. Careful navigation was required to avoid the rocks and reefs with which the bed of the river was studded. Here and there they caught sight of villages perched far up on the hillsides. At one point they saw a file of horsemen winding along a path two or three hundred feet above the river, and for a moment feared that they might be Slavianski’s party; but the boat had apparently not been noticed, and the horsemen disappeared.
About 3 o’clock they came to the junction of the Black Drin with the White. Since the united stream flowed from this point westward, they could no longer avail themselves of the current, nor could they proceed up the White Drin without an expenditure of petrol which they did not care to afford. It was time to resume their land journey. The banks of the river were still so lofty that they found no landing-place until they arrived at a many-arched bridge. Here they left the water and took to the road, which was little more than a bridle-track. A few minutes’ run brought them to another bridge, crossing a tributary stream. At the near end of the bridge was a kula, and as the gyro-car came to it a man stepped into the path, holding a rifle.
“Shall we run past him?” asked George.
“I think we had better pull up,” replied Maurice. “We don’t want a bullet in our backs. I daresay he will give us some food if we approach him properly.”
George halted the car, and Maurice gave the man a courteous salutation, and, taking the bull by the horns, asked if he could provide a meal. The man looked amazed at the question, then curious, and finally said gruffly that the strangers might eat if they chose, but he had nothing but bread to offer them. This Maurice accepted, and while eating it asked how far it was to Prizren. Hearing that it was only four hours’ march, he decided to push on at once; and, thanking their reluctant entertainer, the travellers set off again. The road improved as they entered the dusty plain of Prizren. They overtook many people as they sped along—goat-herds, mule-drivers, horsemen, women carrying huge bundles of wood, and here and there an ox-sledge. George was amused to see them skip aside at the sound of the hooter, and many were the cries of consternation and affright as the humming car ran by.
At length the minarets of Prizren came into view, and in a few minutes they passed the guard-house at the entrance to the town. The main street was cleaner than any they had seen since leaving Italy. It was thronged with people, who had come out of their houses, now that the heat of the day was past, to shop in the bazaars and gossip with their neighbours. Here was a tailor’s shop, blazing with colour; there a saddler’s, where hung bright saddle-bags, and horse-trappings with scarlet tassels; in the open spaces were piled vast quantities of luscious fruit, the sight of which made George’s mouth water. But the car was attracting so much attention that Maurice thought it best to find a han at once before they were mobbed. They stopped at the first han they came to, and by that time there was a considerable crowd about them, who looked on in hushed amazement as they alighted.
Entering the place, Maurice was received by a portly hanji, whose guests rose from their seats and courteously saluted the newcomer. George remained outside to keep an eye on the gyro-car. When Maurice explained that he wished the car to be taken to a safe place for the night, the host sent two of his household to wheel it to the stables. Maurice took occasion to explain that anyone who meddled with it would suffer a severe shock, and to emphasise his warning got George to let off a cloud of smoke into the faces of the bystanders, who scuttled away holding their noses. Feeling assured that the car would not be molested, the travellers entered the inn; the innkeeper and his attendants removed their boots and pressed strange drinks upon them, which they politely declined, asking for coffee. Soon they were furnished with an excellent supper—a fowl boiled with rice, maize bread and honey. This was a banquet, compared with the meagre and uncertain meals they had had since leaving Durazzo, and they enjoyed it thoroughly.
“We will stay here for the night, and go on to-morrow,” said Maurice.
“Is it safe to delay?” asked George.