Herr Runkel's younger brother Max was an apprentice in Zara; his term was about to expire and some arrangement must be made for the future. It was this which had brought Herr Runkel to Zara. While he was busy with his brother's affairs, the rest of the party wandered about the ancient city; they visited the market-place, alive and riotous with brilliant coloring; they inspected the wharves, and commented upon St. Mark's Lion, which reposed over the entrance-gate from the harbor, in the city wall, a relic of Venetian invasion, as if that stone lion was yet watching for the return of his people. They even crossed over to the islands, which lie like so many bits of broken mainland, to watch the fishing which is so remunerative, the sardine fishery being one of the greatest sources of revenue of the country. His business terminated satisfactorily, Herr Runkel suggested they might return by way of the provinces of Bosnia, Croatia and Styria, because these held such wonders in sightseeing for the children. CHAPTER X THROUGH DALMATIA AND THE BORDER-LANDS EARLY the following morning they made their start, packs on backs, over the low, waste lands of Dalmatia. The sun was burning hot; nothing but extensive plains of desert met the eye; far in the distance were low mountains, which glistened in the scorching sun with a startling whiteness, most dazzling to the eyes. There was a sameness about the landscape which wearied the boys. "I certainly should not like to live here," remarked Leopold; "it is not so nice as Tyrol; there is too much barrenness, and too much dazzling whiteness." "Nevertheless," replied his uncle, "this is a fine country; the wine and olive oil are famous the world over, to say nothing of the fruit and flowers. If you did but stop to think about it, most of the fruit and flowers we have in Vienna out of season come from this region." "But how can anything grow in a desert?" "We shall soon see," replied his uncle. "Dalmatia looks baked, but it is extremely productive." After some time, the soil began to grow more and more irregular. Great stones lay upon the surface, and immense fissures opened up at irregular distances. "Now, my boy, can you call this a desert?" asked Herr Müller. "Here are the gardens of Dalmatia." "The gardens?" exclaimed both children. "Yes." "But I see nothing but great ravines," said Leopold. "They are not ravines, child, but great cracks opened up in the swampy soil which has burst asunder from the terrific heat of the sun. But that is what saves the country from starvation; on the bottom of these fissures are deposits of fertile soil washed into them by the rains, and here the peasant plants his crops. Here you see one too narrow to plant anything in, but over there," and he pointed to the immediate right, "is one which stretches a mile or more." "How interesting!" exclaimed Ferdinand. "But what a queer place to plant crops."