astonishment.  The rage and violence took us utterly by surprise, for nothing of the kind had ever happened to us before from the naturally courteous Montenegrins.  However, now the man’s rage communicated itself to us, and in the twinkling of an eye both Marko and myself had covered him with our firearms—­we both had guns at our side—­and Stephan began to talk.  Stephan was a violent-tempered man, and now he let himself go.  He spoke for some minutes, and it was lurid.  The muzzle of my carbine began to wobble, for his fluency and comprehensiveness were distinctly amusing, while our attacker, who soon let go the butt of his revolver, listened with pained but undisguised admiration.  “And now, thou accursed one,” wound up Stephan, after he had paid attention, in his burst of eloquence, to the man’s family, antecedents, personal appearance, and probable future, “go back to the hotel, and await my master’s return!  Thou knowest the law.  For even laying the hand on thy revolver in anger, and against strangers in our land, thou wilt be thrown into prison, and thou wilt receive ten months.  I will come and see thee, and listen to the music of thy clanking chains, and we will talk of to-day’s doings!” By the time Stephan had finished, abject fear was depicted on the man’s face, and his companions showed signs of having heard enough.  Murmuring apologies, they sheered off, and with a slow and thoughtful rhythm paddled back the way they had come.

On our return to the inn several hours later the three men were standing stiffly outside the door, cap in hand and thoroughly scared.  He who had attacked us spoke tremblingly, offering as an excuse that they had fished all night and had but gone for some food before taking us out again.  They were direly poor, he said, and the fear of losing their wages had upset them, the long night without sleep had destroyed their powers of reasoning, and—­would we forgive them for the dastardly outrage?  Needless to say we dismissed them, as do the magistrates, with a caution.

We met amongst other Montenegrin officials the district doctor, an interesting man of varied experience.  At his invitation we witnessed the annual vaccination, which is compulsory in Montenegro.

[Illustration:  VACCINATION]

[Illustration:  BAZAAR LIFE, DULCIGNO]

Outside the door of the principal mosque the doctor and his assistants and some other officials took up their position one morning and waited.  Shortly afterwards crowds of children appeared on the scene, mostly in charge of their Turkish fathers or elder brothers, some of the latter scarcely able to carry their little burdens.  Very rarely a Turkish mother appeared, closely veiled, but the Christian mothers invariably came; that is, the Albanian Christians from the outlying villages.  Very quaint are these women in a most picturesque costume and carrying their infants in a cumbersome and unwieldy cradle slung on their backs.  It was a very varied assortment