My next job that same morning concerned Sandford and Merton. We had, two days ago on the trek, failing to find oxen, commandeered some cows to help draw the wagons, as our oxen were exhausted. They had with them two calves, and last night, on arrival, Sandford and Merton had killed the calves, and, with their own little group of friends, they had eaten them, without asking permission and--here was the rub--without offering us any veal. Sandford was stout and lazy, and was catering very badly for us, and if we had relied on his services, we and the cattle should have fared badly, and now food was getting scarcer, and he gave himself less, instead of more, trouble. So I took the opportunity of a fierce-eye talk. I used to disbelieve in the necessity for anger, but, with the soldiers, I found that an ounce of anger was worth a ton of argument. But, for the sake of the interpreter, the wrath had to be broken up into sections, else Vooitch forgot what I had said and, then he invented, and his inventions were not the same as mine. But to bring the wrath duly to the boil, then let it wait, simmering, whilst the interpreter translated, then again boil and simmer, boil and simmer, in quick alternation, as often as required, needed, in order to be effective, a little stage management. So far, I had got on without "damn," for which I didn't know the Serbian. Our Artillery Major looked in for coffee and a talk after mid-day dinner. News was as bad as ever, but he was as cheery as usual. There were only a few wounded, and that was the worst sign of all. At 4 p.m. came the order to move on. Night treks seemed now to be the rule, and this night we must tackle the second half (Yankova portion) of the defile. The first stretch of road was terrible for the cars, very soft, and deep in mud and holes, but the soldiers all helped to push and carry, and the chauffeurs, as usual, mastered all difficulties. Before we entered the gorge, we passed our divisional commander, who was watching some of the artillery wagons enter the main road, from a by-track to the hills, where the guns had been in position, and as we were held up, we had a short talk. He was, as always, delightfully genial, friendly and cheerful. If we passed safely through the gorge to-night, the Army would, he said, probably be saved. There was renewed hope that the French and English--and even the Russians were mentioned--were on their way from Salonika. Possibly we might join them at Velles. He also gave me the good news that our dispenser was to be removed next day. The congestion last night had been so great, and had caused such dangerous delay, that to-night steps were taken by officers to control the way, and to get the columns in a single line, to allow of passing up and down. Officers were also stationed at intervals to prevent wagons and refugees from butting in from side-roads and causing confusion, which it would take a Dante to describe.