We rose very early in the morning and started off on three miserable ponies gathered by our host from neighbouring mountain men. We had hardly proceeded two hundred yards when we were challenged by a Turkish post. A dilapidated blockhouse stood at the foot of the hill on which we had slept, and our slumbers would not have been so peaceful had either we or the Turks known of the others’ presence. The soldiers were unofficered and could not read, and an attitude of assurance, supported by our red seals, again passed us on. The man who accompanied us to bring back the horses had just returned from Bulgaria, whither he had fled leaving a pretty wife and six small children. ‘Brute!’ observed the Man of Yorkshire. ‘Ah, well! One can always get another wife!’ said Sandy. The mountain men had been able to give us only bread to put into our packs, but as we skirted Tsarevoselo, the peasant--who could enter the place without being noticed--went in and procured two large lumps of sugar. Sweetened bread and cool water from a fall made our lunch; after which we plodded on, until an hour after nightfall we entered Djuma-bala. [Illustration: THE TURKISH QUARTER: DJUMA-BALA.] ‘How long do you give the police?’ asked the Man of Yorkshire. ‘Fifteen minutes,’ I replied. The first of them arrived in five. * * * * * We had done half our journey--the hardest half. We were certain of the rest. We expected some difficulty with the Turks, and we had much. Sandy disappeared. We knew where to look for him. We went to the gaol and demanded his release. And the Turks released him. They were positive that he was the committaji who had brought us through their country, and they refused to let him proceed with us. After discussion by wire--which required several days--instructions came from our old friend Hilmi Pasha to send us back, without our Sandy. But we refused to go without Sandy. This deadlock lasted for a week. Meanwhile we telegraphed to the British Consul-General at Salonica, signing the telegrams in one instance ‘Moore and Booth,’ in another ‘Booth and Moore.’ Translated into Turkish the signatures arrived at the Consulate ‘Mor-o-bos’ in one case, ‘Bot-o-more’ in the other. We were known to our friends by these names thereafter. The Consul visited Hilmi Pasha (who was then in Salonica), and got permission for us to proceed with our dragoman. Hilmi had some hard words for us, the least of which were ‘Ces vagabonds!’ We received a telegram in Turkish from the Consul, and took it to the kaimakam for interpretation. The kaimakam read, ‘Monsieur Boot et Monsieur Mo-ré, you may depart for Drama, as you desire, but your interpreter must be left behind.’ We felt somewhat sick. Another telegram to the Consul-General.