Adventure, December 1914 — page 184: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

182 the enemy. The artillery was in even worse shape, for under such abnormal con- ditions horses suffered more than human beings. Savoff did the best he could. He pushed his infantry forward as fast as the men were rested. Such cavalry as he had he used for scouring the country ahead of him and for seizing the Marmora ports. Bands of Mace- donian irregulars, the chetniks who had warred on the Turks all their lives without intermission, were flung forward to supple- ment the cavalry, covering the Bulgarian front with a network of patrols and skir- mishers. These organizations carried on a warfare of their own against similar bodies of Turkish cavalry and basht-bazouks in the interval before the army could prosecute its march on Constantinople. Many of the participants in this warfare were more than half brigands, men of no individual honor or patriotism, who were attracted to the work by the chances of plunder. So far as was possible Savoff and his generals kept a check upon those under their control, and Savoff delegated Gort- cheff to act in supreme command of irregu- lar auxiliaries. But actually they did pretty much as they pleased. I had confidently looked forward to see- ing a little outpost work with Boris, but when several days passed and no invitation came to me at headquarters—which had been moved again to Eradli, a station on the railroad from Adrianople to Constanti- nople—I decided that Boris had forgotten me or else considered the work too danger- ous and took this means of keeping me out of it. It was frightfully dull at Eradli, where every one was occupied in solving problems in transport and getting the rail- road working again. _ Stoyan and I were reduced to taking ram- bles together through the neighboring coun- try. I was returning from such a ride late one afternoon when a swart, thick-set man, who looked uncommonly like a Tartar but wore the costume of the Macedonian Free Companions, approached me on the out- skirts of the headquarters camp. ‘Are you the American, Guspodine Blair?” he asked in guttural Bulgarian. His voice had an alien tang to it, and I glanced sharply at him. “Yes,” I said. “IT have a letter for you from Colonel Kurtsky,” he went on, and fished out a Adventure soiled piece of paper from the folds of his waist sash. It was so filthy and creased that it was all I could do to make out the words writ- ten over it in lead pencil. It read: DEAR BLAIR: Come with the bearer and I will show you some fun. He will pass you through the lines. KURTSKY. ‘Where is Colonel Kurtsky?”’ I asked. “When I left him he was at Sveti-Tevjan, fifteen miles beyond Tchorlu,”’ the fellow an- swered. ‘But he may not be there at this moment.” “Why not?” I demanded sharply. For some unaccountable reason I did not like him. He shrugged his shoulders. “Out there we do not stay still very long just now, guspodine. We keep moving.” This was true enough, and I was half ashamed. “All right,” I said. “T’ll be with you in ten minutes,”’ oF | things in saddle-bags, scribble a short note to Savoff, and stuff some spare cartridge-clips for my pistol into a pocket. The man was waiting outside when I returned, keeping a wary eye on Stoyan who, on his part, did not show any particu- lar favor for our guide. We rode out past the camp sentries, and after traversing the line of the railroad for seven or eight miles struck off to the south- east along a bridle path which my guide said was a short-cut. About nine o’clock we came to a large village, absolutely de- serted, and the man signified that we should halt here for supper and to give the horses a rest. He seemed to know his way about, and went straight to the village inn which stood gaping and empty. An hour later we rode on again under the light of the stars. It was a little after mid- night when we descried a dim patch of for- est ahead of us to the left. The road wound across a shallow brook and plunged into the heart of this tract. Stoyan, loping at my side, pricked up his ears as we came to the water and drew back his lips with a low growl that I recognized for a warning. ‘‘Look here, I don’t like this place,” I ex- claimed. ‘‘The dog smells something.” “Doubtless my companions,” said my I STAYED only to pack a few MICLOOOK C@