Soon after midday I overtook King Peter and his staff. Despite his
seventy-six years, he marched on foot with vigor younger men might have
envied.
During all the four hours I marched with the royal staff he never once
mounted his horse, which a soldier was leading behind him. When we
stopped for the night at Bredeti King Peter had a ten hours' march to
his credit.
It was at this point I came across the first of Essad Pacha's
gendarmes. They had been sent out by that heavy-handed ruler to
protect the King and his staff. They were a picturesque lot, many of
them barefooted, but there was no doubt about the first class quality
of their rifles and revolvers. They wore the Serbian gendarme's
uniform--that is, they wore any uniform--of which the Nish government
had some months before made them a present of several thousand.
The attitude of the population could not be described as friendly to
the Serbians, but at the same time there were no outward signs of
hostility. They rarely saluted and showed no desire whatever to offer
hospitality. In the case of the royal household and headquarters staff
Essad Pacha had requisitioned accommodations, but any one not belonging
to one of these units had every chance of faring badly. All they had to
depend on were wayside caravanserai.
These huge, barnlike structures consist of nothing but four walls and a
roof, the latter generally doubtfully water-tight. Here men and horses
were all quartered pell-mell. Everybody annexes as much space as he can
get and lights a fire for warmth and cooking. As they have no chimneys,
the smoke is left to find its way out through the open doors or the
thatched roof. The state of the atmosphere may be imagined.
As my colleague, Paul Dubochet, of the "Petit Parisien," and I had
pushed on ahead of the headquarters staff, we had naturally lost the
advantage of being billeted by Essad's gendarmes. When we finished the
day's march we took our share of floor space, but the atmosphere in an
hour generally proved too much for us.
We were therefore compelled to surrender, and, despite the freezing
cold and the driving snow, we determined to put up a small tent I
received at the time of the destruction of the military stores at
Kraguyevatz Arsenal. It was only three feet high and open at the end;
hence it was only an indifferent shelter against the blizzard. However,
I ordered my man to build an immense fire near the open end, and we
went to sleep.
Three hours later we awoke, to find the wretched tent ablaze. We
struggled out with difficulty and managed to save most of our
belongings, but the tent and the sleeping rugs were gone. There was
nothing to do but remain at our camp fire until dawn.