Now came the supper, which consisted of robber-steak and tea. I always
stuck to my tea as the most refreshing beverage after a long walk or
ride. I like coffee in the morning before starting--good coffee, mind;
but in the evening there is nothing like tea. The robber-steak is
capital, and deserves an "honourable mention" at least: it is composed
of small bits of beef, bacon, and onion strung alternately on a piece of
stick; it is seasoned with pinches of _paprika_ and salt, and then
roasted over the fire, the lower end of the stick being rolled backwards
and forwards between your two palms as you hold it over the hot embers.
It makes a delicious relish with a hunch of bread.

Our camp-fire and its surroundings formed a romantic scene. We had three
Serbs with us as attendants, and there was F---- and myself, all seated
in a semicircle to windward of the smoke. The boles of the majestic
beech-trees surrounding us rose like stately columns to support the
green canopy above our heads, and in the interstices of the leafy roof
were visible spaces of sky, so deeply blue that the hue was almost lost
in darkness; but out of the depths shone many a bright star in infinite
brilliancy. The scene was picturesque in the highest degree. The
flickering firelight, our Serbians in their quaint dresses moving about
the gnarled roots and antlered branches of the trees, upon which the
light played fitfully, and the mystery of that outer rim of darkness,
all helped to impress the fancy with the charm of novelty.

After supper was finished, and duly cleared away, we all disposed
ourselves for sleep, taking care to have the guns ready at hand, for we
might be disturbed by a wolf or a bear on his nightly rounds. Our
attendants had previously collected some large logs of wood, large
almost as railway-sleepers, to keep up a good fire through the night.