ths, but in the summer crawled
down to the Bocche de Cattaro and on the sweltering shores of the
Adriatic built himself a primitive sweat bath. In a few weeks he was
better, and in a few months cured. He then went to the mines in America,
for he dared not return to Macedonia. He saved L800 and returned with
it to his sister's in Serbia, but was so oppressed by the misery about
him that he gave away all his money and went back.

"Dere's lots a mineral in dese mountains, you feller. I show you one
lump feller got a' Ipek, an' I guess it's silver, sure. Wen de war over
you come back an' we'll go over dem places tergedder. Dere's coal too.
Lots."

He told us that the wretched skeleton who was driving us had power in
Turkish days to commandeer the services of Christian labourers, and to
pay them nothing.

We passed by placid fields containing cows, horses, donkeys. The country
seemed untouched by war. Those cows could never have drawn heavy carts
and lain exhausted and foodless after a heavy day's work. The horses
reminded one of the sleek mares owned by old ladies who lived in awe of
their coachmen.

For this all belonged to Dechani, and it was beyond the power of the
state to touch their riches; nor had they been molested even in the days
of Turkish rule.

"You see, monastery 'e pay money to the toughest Albanians--Albanian
they give besa--and nobody never do no 'arm to the monasteries. Russia
she send much money, she send always her priest to Dechani and the
Turks they keep sorter respectful."

Our first sight of Dechani disappointed us a little, the proportions
lacked the beauty of the Ipek church; but the big old door marked by the
fire the Turks had built against it, decades before, cheered us up a
bit.

A pleasant priest with a smooth face and ringlets two feet long greeted
us and led us to the little Russian hospital which was fitted into the
Abbey, warning us not to bang our heads against the heavy oak beams in
the corridors.

The Russians welcomed us heartily, preparing the most wonderful tea,
Australian butter, white bread made with flour brought from Russia.

Pavlovitch enjoyed himself immensely. Food was thin in the barracks. But
he was very worried about the priest's long ringlets.

"I'd soon cure 'im, a month diggin' de trench!" he murmured.

After tea we examined the church. The interior was one miraculous blue:
pictures with blue backgrounds, apostles with blue draperies, blue
skies, a wonderf