“Where are you leading us?” asked Maurice.
“By the path I spoke of, to the Black Drin,” answered Giulika.
Chapter XII
THE SWAMP
Yard by yard the path became steeper, and at times bent so abruptly that only with the greatest care, and by the united efforts of the whole party, could the gyro-car be dragged or pushed round. More than once Giulika muttered an imprecation on the people who invented machines. On foot, even on horseback, the narrow path presented little difficulty to a mountaineer, and the simple old man could not understand why two travellers, in peril of their lives from enemies, should enhance their danger by clinging to a thing of metal. He admitted, however, that the lamp was a good one, and even said that he should like to have a light as brilliant in his kula; it would enable the women to knit at night!
When they had gone so far from the village that there was no risk of a sound reaching the Albanians at their camp fire, George started the motor actuating the gyroscopes, and so made the haulage of the car easier, since the men no longer needed to concern themselves with keeping it upright. This fact caused no little consternation among them, and one asked earnestly whether the Inglesi would assure him that the car was not a creature of Shaitan.
They soon found that, difficult as it was to get the machine up-hill, it was still more difficult when the path took a downward trend. At such times the car had a tendency to break away from the hands of those who held it. By-and-by it occurred to George to climb into the car at the head of such descents and apply the brakes. Even then, however, the men had to hang upon it, for powerful as the brakes were, they were scarcely strong enough to hold it at the steepest parts.
Progress was slow. To start the driving motor was out of the question: the one consolation was that no petrol was being consumed. Eager as all were to reach the river, Maurice was determined not to jeopardise the remainder of his journey to Sofia by over-haste. Both George and he felt utterly worn out. The strain of constant travelling, the want of sleep and food, the agitation of the past day, were telling upon them heavily. They nibbled at hunks of hard maize bread given them by Giulika, and at some polonies they had bought at Durazzo; but with the exhaustion of their nervous energy they had lost appetite. Their present perils, and the thought of possible dangers to come, kept them on the rack.
It was indeed anxious, terrifying work, this scrambling up rough, tortuous acclivities, then diving headlong into what seemed at times an almost perpendicular gulf. The path was little more than a goat track. Here a huge mass of rock blocked the way; there the track diminished to a width of little more than four feet, with a sheer cliff on one side, and on the other a precipice of unknown depth. Giulika confessed that but for the light of the lamp he would never have attempted the more hazardous portions of the path; and the Englishmen were thankful that the surrounding darkness concealed from them the full measure of the risk they were running.
Suddenly they heard the baying of dogs.