IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 39 



rain was awful to contemplate. Accordingly on 

 August 23 we moved to a green scoglia, or, as we 

 should say, holm, a couple of hundred yards out 

 to sea. This is called the Island of St. Justina, 

 and on the land side still exists her tiny chapel. 

 At the time of our stay it had been recently 

 re-roofed, but not yet re-consecrated. This islet 

 served as a refuge to the inhabitants of PakoStane 

 when the Turks came down; and one can readily 

 imagine the Slavs cursing in impotent wrath as 

 they watched the smoke going up from burning 

 houses and crops, the Moslems, for their part, 

 riding along the beach and shaking their long 

 spears in idle threat. A few ruined walls still 

 mark what no doubt have been buildings of refuge, 

 but probably no one had slept on the islet for 

 centuries. 



The islet is of course waterless, but this is a 

 remark that applies to almost all Dalmatian camps. 

 It is about a hundred and fifty yards in length, 

 and little more than half that width. Where not 

 rocky it is covered with coarse grass, and we soon 

 found a clear and green spot, somewhat to sea- 

 ward of the centre, on which to camp. Whilst we 

 were pitching our tent, I heard squeals, and, going 

 to the spot, found Eex with a full-grown hare, 

 which he had caught in its form. Some days 

 after, some men came to look after "five hares 

 which the schoolmaster had turned down there." 



