An officer greeted us.

"We had expected you yesterday," he said.

We waved to the horses.

"No horses."

"That is a pity," he murmured. "You see, there was something to eat
yesterday!"

In spite of his pessimism we got eggs and wine. Bogami had a large
crowd, to whom he lectured, and we sent him out some eggs.

After lunch we pushed on, in conquered territory. To Chainitza they said
was one hour and a half, it proved nearer three.

We joined some peasants, and they told us that they were going to the
great festival. The old mother halted at a sort of sheep pen by the
roadside; when she rejoined us she was wiping her eyes.

"That was my brother," she explained; "he was killed in the war;" for it
is the custom to erect memorial stones by the roadside. Many of these
are very quaint, sometimes painted with a soldier, or else with the
rifle, sword, pistols and medals of the deceased.

Chainitza lies in a backwater, where the deep valley makes a sudden
bend. When we came to it the sun was in our eyes, and halfway between
the crest and the river the town seemed to float in a bluish mist; two