We hurried to the station, rescued our knapsacks under the nose of a new
official who looked very much surprised, and boarded the English rest
house near by. English people were sitting in deck chairs outside the
papier-maché house which stood surrounded by a couple of tents and a
wooden kitchen in a field. Austrian prisoners were preparing lunch, and
we were introduced to Seemitch the dog.

Though young, Seemitch was fat and exhibited signs of a much-varied
ancestry. The original Seemitch, an important Serb with long gold
teeth, was very indignant that a dog, and such a dog, should be called
after him, so Sir Ralph arranged that of the two other puppies one
should be called after him and the other after Mr. Hardinge his
secretary. Thus the man Seemitch's dignity was restored.

At the station, to our great joy, we met two American doctors from
Zaichar. One we had mourned for dead and were astonished to see him,
shadow-like, stiff-kneed, and sitting uncomfortably on a chair in the
middle of the platform. Months before he had pricked himself with a
needle while operating on a gangrenous case, and had since lain
unconscious with blood-poisoning.

While we were cheering over his recovery, a little Frenchman slipped
into our reserved compartment, which was only a coupé, and had seized
the window seat. Jan found him lubricating his mouth, already full of
dinner, with wine from a bottle. As he showed no signs of seeing reason
from the male, Jo tried feminine indignation. "That seat is mine," she
snapped to his back-tilted head.

"Good. I exact nothing," he said, wiping his moustache upwards. She