In the battle on Krivolak a Serbian was wounded in the chest. He could scarcely breathe. He was sent to the hospital. Moving slowly, he came to a spot where he saw a wounded Bulgarian lying down among the dead and crying with pain, his legs being broken. The Serbian stood thoughtful a minute, then he took the enemy on his back and brought him to the hospital, both very exhausted. He was asked:
"Why did you take such a burden, since you are a burden to yourself?"
He kept silent for a moment and then replied:
"You know, sire, I have been shooting with all the others. Who knows, perhaps I wounded him."
"Why should not I believe in Fate?" an under-officer once asked me. "Should somebody relate to me what I am going to tell you, I could not believe it. But it happened to me. Once
in my boyhood I cut the branches of a tree; a gipsy woman saw me and said:
"'Don't injure the tree; a tree may once save your life when all your hopes are gone.'
"Now, listen! I was taken prisoner by the Austrians. In their retreat they let me go with their column. We went through a thick forest. I thought myself lost. All my past life came before my eyes. I remembered the gipsy woman and her advice. I looked around. In a few moments I jumped aside and found myself on the top of a tree. Nobody saw me. Hours and hours the Austrians marched close to my protecting tree. At once two Magyar hussars rushed back looking around, evidently searching for me. They went. Then came our first advance guard, and I slipped down from the tree and surprised them. Is that not Fate?"