I was afraid, I fired my rifle into the air.  Very soon the men came running from the fields, and amongst them Achmet and his son.  When they saw me and my cow, they came towards me firing, but being unsteady from running, the bullets flew wide.  Then I took careful aim and shot Achmet dead, and then his son.  We then ran quickly, and though men pursued us, they were afraid to come too near lest I should shoot them likewise, and so we came back to Fundina in safety.  Since then the men of Dinos wait for me, and they will kill me soon, for the insult is very great that I have put upon them, and the fame of my deed has travelled into all lands.”  As he said this his eyes lit with fire, and the spirit of heroism shone out in the seemingly timid-looking man.

“Must thou stay here, in Fundina?” I asked, “where thy enemies are so near.  Why not go to Cetinje or Niksic?”

“Men know me for a hero,” he answered proudly.  “What would they say if I ran away and sought safety elsewhere?  I should be a double coward, for I should leave my brothers to inherit my fate.  No, I shall wait here till they come, and they shall not find me unprepared or sleeping.  See, every night I make my bed in a different place, sometimes in one room of the house, sometimes in the bushes outside.  They never know where I shall sleep, for these dogs love to kill their enemy in the night.”

Silence fell upon us as Keco finished.  The wood fire crackled and flickered, lighting up fitfully the serious faces of the men sitting round.

Half guessing our thoughts, Keco said—­

“To-night no attack will be made.  We shall keep guard outside.”

We felt abashed.  We confess thoughts of a nocturnal assassination had not pleased us, and yet these wild mountaineers had already provided for such a contingency.  When we went outside the house before turning in, Dr. S. pointed out the figure of a motionless sentinel leaning on his rifle some little distance away.

“It is odd that the women are so respected,” I remarked to the doctor, “when no other law seems recognised.  Do they never take part in a vendetta?”

“Never as a woman,” said the doctor.  “If it should happen that a woman is the last surviving member of a family, the rest having been killed in a vendetta, she may continue the feud, but as a man.  She then assumes the clothes of the opposite sex, procures arms and cuts herself off from the world, living as a hermit.  Do you remember that Albanian woman at Easter time in Podgorica who kissed me so fervently?”

We nodded, for we had been much amused at the scene.  A wild-looking, unkempt Albanian woman had kissed the doctor most effusively.

“Though she had assumed the woman’s garb for the Easter festival, she is to all intents and purposes a man, and hence the man’s kiss of peace.  She then asked me for a revolver which I had promised her some time ago.”

We turned in soon after, but not before we heard another story.