CHAPTER XXI
THE FLEA-PIT
Those comfortable folks who have never slept out of a bed do not know how annoying a blanket may be, if there is nothing into which to tuck its folds. Wrap yourself up in one, lie flat and motionless on the floor, and we guarantee that in an hour the blanket has unrolled itself and is making frantic efforts to escape. Every night on the road resolved into a half-dazed attempt to hold on to the elusive wrap. Sleep came in as a second consideration, and when we say we awoke on any particular morning, it really means that we got up, though several of us in the intervals of blanket catching did get in a snore or two.
Well, we got up, then, in good time next day, hoping to rectify the professor's interference, and stumbling along with Stajitch, we reached the high-roofed "Dürer" dwelling where resided the commandant of the village. In the kitchen we found two women with bare feet, two children and a man half undressed. He brought in the captain, also in negligée. Now, mark, we were in Montenegro. We exposed our grievance to the captain and roundly denounced the professor as an interfering old beggar. The captain first gave us coffee, second hurried us to his office, third called in three henchmen and issued rapid orders.
"Certainly, certainly. You shall have all the horses you need. Just only wait one little quarter of an hour. I will give you four policemen to go with you."
We protested that four was too many.
"No, no," he said, "you had better have four."
We went back joyfully to the hotel. Cutting or one of the others had been exploring and had gotten twenty eggs. The hotel people consented to cook them. While we were outside looking at the mosques and wondering when the horses were coming, the professor walked into the bar-room.
"Ah," said he, "eggs."