'Have you come from Belgrade?' asked the Servian officer, raising his voice, for the number and cries of the wounded were increasing every moment.
'Yes—monsieur—on the spur.'
'Then, perhaps you have despatches from the King.'
'What king?'
'The devil! here is a fellow who never heard of the King of Servia—Milano Obrenovitch!'
'A spy!' said several voices, in Servian and German.
'Spy, be hanged!' exclaimed the stranger.
'We have taken one already, and hanged he shall be on the morrow—-the rascal Guebhard!' said the Servian captain, exultingly.
'I know nothing about all this—I have my passports, which show that I am an officer in her Britannic Majesty's service.'
'Bravo! can I serve you?' asked a wounded officer, who was limping past, supported by a soldier.