"That's fine, only I'd like to know what we are going to do after we have passed the sentries! We shall be within two Austrian lines even then, shan't we?"
"We certainly shall—but we shan't stay there!"
"Oh, I give it up! I never was good at guessing riddles, anyhow!"
"Sh-h! We can't tell when we're near the sentries, and we'd better keep quiet now."
After a little time the cart stopped with a jolt, and they heard the peasant driver, as he seemed to be, exchanging rough jests with the sentries. Then there was a grounding of arms, and they passed on. For perhaps fifteen minutes they continued to jolt along, and for the first time Dick was glad, despite the heat, that he was wearing such thick garments, since they saved him, he was convinced, a good many bruises. He decided that that must be the reason they had worn them. Then the cart stopped and the driver began to make a way for them to get out, which they were glad to do.
"All right—good luck and good-night, Ivan!" said Stepan.
"And to you, good luck and the grace of God, Stepan Ivanovitch!" said the driver. "There is nothing more that I can do?"
"No. Good-bye!"
The cart rumbled off, and Stepan turned off to the right. Dick asked no questions, but went along, satisfied that the mystery must soon be solved. And indeed it was. They were on level ground now, but soon they began to descend, and found themselves in a rather wide ravine. There was a sudden challenge: "Who goes there?" delivered in Servian!
"Kossovo!" answered Stepan.