k they had left, and
Mischa, the ferryman, staggered and collapsed. A bullet had reached him!
The oars fell into the water, and they were adrift.

CHAPTER VI

ACROSS THE SAVE

The fact that they lost their oars was what saved them. For now, its
attention evidently attracted by the sudden outburst of firing, the
nearest monitor sent its searchlight flashing down upon them, and the
little boat, with its helpless burden, was plainly visible from the
shore. With a quick and ready wit, the two scouts leaped to their feet,
at the risk of upsetting the boat, and waved their hands, in token of
their helplessness. They were seen at once, and there was a sharp cry
from the shore, and an order to cease firing.

"We're in luck," said Steve, quietly, as he sat down again in the boat.
"That's an Austrian officer. If he had been Hungarian, he wouldn't have
stopped firing just because he saw we were helpless. But he must have
come lately from Vienna. He hasn't had time to get the border hatred of
us into his system yet."

Dick already knew that there was particularly bad and bitter blood
between Servians and Hungarians, but he made no comment. By this time he
was heart and soul with Servia in the war that must have begun, but this
was partly because of his swiftly formed friendship for Steve Dushan,
and partly because Servia seemed to be the under dog. Yet he knew that
there were probably two sides to the question, and even the way Mike
Hallo had behaved had not filled him with a prejudice against the whole
Hungarian nation.

Now that the immediate danger was over, there was time for them to look
to the wounded ferryman. Dick thought he was dead. He had never seen a
man shot before, but when he turned the man's body over, Steve laughed,
not callously, but happily.

"Good for old Mischa!" he said. "I thought a man who fought at Kumanovo
and helped to storm Adrianople after the Bulgarians yelled for help
wouldn't go out so easily! See? It's only a scratch! The bullet grazed
his head. Dip your handkerchief in the water, and we'll have him all
right in no time."

The cold water, as a matter of fact, did revive Mischa almost at once,
and he sat up, rueful at the loss of his oars. When he was told that a
bullet had grazed his scalp and stunned him, he actually grinned.

"So that is what it feels like to be shot!" he said. "Good! Now I shan't
be afraid the next time there is going to be a battle, as I was at
Kumanovo. What