Under Fire For Servia

by James Fiske

That was a good correction to make, because it was morning now, and streaks of light were beginning to appear beyond the Danube. And Dick, who had lived through the fullest day of his life, was eager to get to bed. The Austrian bombardment, which it seemed had not been very bad, had stopped altogether, and the strong probability that it would be resumed when the sun rose didn't deter Dick from his desire to sleep.

"We'll be at my house soon," said Steve, who knew how tired Dick was. "If old Maritza is still there, she will look after us. I don't believe anyone else will be in the house. My mother and my two young brothers have probably gone away. My father said they must when the war began."

Dick found that his friend's house was in that new quarter of Belgrade that he had admired so much when he had made his trip across from Semlin. And the inside of the house was as pleasant as its outer aspect. It was not luxurious. Few houses in Servia are, since Servia is a country where great wealth is practically unknown. But so, for that matter, is extreme poverty. Most of the Servian people make enough for a living, and not a great deal more, and so they have remained a simple people, and have maintained their ability to rise as a nation in arms.

But Dick wasn't thinking of such things. All he needed to know about that house or any other was that it contained a bed. Yet first before they went to bed, both he and Steve took a bath.

"Heaven only knows when we'll get another chance," said Steve, cheerfully. "There are going to be exciting doings, my friend Dick, for a time. We may have to leave here in a great hurry. You know, the Austrians may find out how easy it would be for them to come over into Belgrade! It would be a great stroke for them to say they had captured our capital in the first week of the war, even if they couldn't keep it."

"Well, I hope they don't come until we've had a good sleep," said Dick. And with that he rolled himself into bed and was snoring as soon as his head touched the pillow.

When he awoke it was broad daylight. But one thing surprised him. The window was in the west wall of the room in which he had slept, and yet the sun was pouring into it! It didn't seem possible, yet it was true. It was late afternoon, almost evening, and he had slept practically all day! In his surprise he called out sharply to Steve, who had slept in the same room, but in a separate bed. But Steve was not there. His bed was crumpled, but he himself had vanished!

Dick went to the window and looked out. Everything seemed to be peaceful. There were not many people about, but he knew that in this part of Belgrade few people were to be seen at this time of day in any case. At first he scarcely noticed a sound that came to his ears regularly, almost as regularly and monotonously as the ticking of a watch. Then he realized what it was; the sound of cannon. The bombardment, then, was still going on. He wondered about its success.

He looked out toward the business quarter of Belgrade. In a good many places black smoke was rising, shot through with yellow fumes. There was no wind, fortunately; he guessed that these pillars of smoke were from fires started by the Austrian shells. Had there been a gale to fan them they might have done serious damage. He was still looking out when the door burst open and Stepan Dushan came in.

"Hello! You're awake at last, are you?" he cried. "Well, you had sleep enough when you once started! You looked so comfortable that I didn't have the heart to wake you when the time came for me to get up."