"And how far have you walked?"
"Four days."
No complaining, no repining, just a statement of fact, these women were cheerfully tramping eight days with bundles weighing from 45 to 50 pounds upon their backs, to take a few luxuries, or necessities, to their fighting kin.
We bade them a jolly farewell, wished them luck, and started downhill.
The track became so steep that we had to descend from our horses and walk, and so we came to Shavnik.
Shavnik is not of wood; it is stone, and as we came into its little square—with the white river-bed on one side—we realized that no welcome attended us. To our indignant dismay the inn was full, and no telegram from the "State" had arrived.
We learned that in Montenegro are two kinds of travellers—royalties and nobodies. Royalties are done for, nobodies do the best they can. We found a not overclean room over a shop—there was nothing better—we had already experienced worse: so we ordered supper, and went off to the telegraph station, to make sure that we arrived as "Royalty" at the next stop.
A man suddenly burst into the office, crying, "Sirdar! Sirdar!"