Horses were being saddled, powder
served out, and arrangements made for a systematic battue of the
robbers. After amusing ourselves by watching the warlike preparations,
we rode on to Kucainia.
We were hospitably received by a fellow-countryman who is working the
mines there. We did justice to his capital dinner, and told our robber
story, which our host capped with the rumours of a communistic rising
down south.
After a short stay at Kucainia, we made arrangements for returning over
the Danube; but this time we proposed to strike the river at
Belo-breska, higher up than Milanovacz. We had dropped our other friend,
so H---- and I hired a light cart for the thirty miles to Belo-breska,
my new horse meanwhile being tied on behind, and so we jogged along. The
road was good, but, like the good people in Thackeray's novels, totally
uninteresting. We drove continually through fields of maize--I say
_through_ the fields, for there was no hedge or fence anywhere. The soil
appeared to be splendidly fertile and well cultivated.
Arrived at Belo-breska, our object was to get across the Danube, and
luckily we found a large flat-bottomed boat used for cattle. The owner
demanded a ducat (about nine shillings) for taking us across. I thought
it a monstrous charge, but the fellow had us in his power. I do not
think the Servians are much liked by those who have to do business with
them. From all I heard, Canning's lines about the sharp practice of some
nearer neighbours would apply very well to the Servians:--
"In matters of commerce the fault of the Dutch
Is giving too little, and asking too much.
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