“But how did you get in there?” “You left the door open and I wanted to see what it was like. I went in.... What a horrible place! Pitch dark, and every now and then a deafening noise and blinding flash, then grinding wheels. I had to look out or I should have been completely crushed. There wasn’t a safe corner. At last my foot was caught.” “Now,” I said seriously, “you can’t live any longer in your little house. It is for your good. You may live inside of this.” I showed him my silver cigarette case. “You will be comfortable and live like a lord. You see the inside is all decorated.” When he saw the decoration he was resigned, and wanted to see how he felt in his new home which he called the imperial tomb. To make up for depriving him of his liberty at night, I found him a good place to spend his days when he was near me. I put him in the ribbon of my hat; only his little black head stuck outside. He saw everything at enormous distances, and always told me what he had discovered as if he were watching from the bridge of a ship. “There is a city,” he called one day. “How far off?” “Twenty miles.” “Is it large?” “Yes, and full of soldiers.” Then I knew we had reached the army, and were getting into the region of the fighting. Fiam had a passion for the top of my hat, which he called the cupola. When I was alone, traveling on foot through the country, observing the position of the armies from a distance, he asked me to let him walk on the brim, which he called the balcony, and then he went around, keeping near the crown so as not to fall off. [Illustration: Fiam Overlooks the Battle] CHAPTER XIV FIAM OVERLOOKS THE BATTLE I don’t know how he managed it, but he understood the manœuvres of war better than I. You see, Hajis are unusually intelligent. Often I couldn’t make out what was going on. I could see soldiers running, firing, apparently turning back, cavalry galloping, and could hear the roar of cannon on all sides, yet I couldn’t tell how the battle was going. But he explained everything to me. “Look there at that hill. Do you see they are attacking? Look to the left; that is an assault. There are ten thousand men. Bravo, advance!” He would get wildly enthusiastic, running here and there and shouting orders in his squeaky little voice, screaming encouragement, reproof, praise and blame. You ought to have heard him calling: “Reënforcements to the right! Place two batteries behind that hill! Forward with the reserves! Smash their entrenchments!” He seemed to think himself the general. I often relied entirely on him for information. I put my hat, with him on it, on the branch of a tree or on top of a cane and went tranquilly to sleep near my horse browsing in the grass. When I awoke I called: “Fiam, who is winning?” “If you are awake,” he answered, “we will go and send a telegram to your journal.” Then I would put him in the hat band, mount my horse and gallop away to the nearest military telegraph station.