We made the best of our repast, and after an hour’s rest we made another start.  We left the river now, and seemed to climb a breakneck hill for interminable hours.  The region was barren and absolutely waterless, while the heat was tremendous.  I only remember one view during that broiling ride.  We had reached a great altitude, and were crossing a narrow ridge.  On one side was the Moraca, and on the other the Mala, both streams mere threads in the hazy distance.

It was the want of water that tried us more than anything.  About midday we halted for a while at a small village, and under the refreshing shade of a large tree.  Some young men kindly fetched us a little water in a dirty vessel, which tasted abominably.

Another long climb and we at last found shade, and rode for the rest of the afternoon through beech forests.  If the path had been bad before, it was worse now, and it was a perfect marvel how the horses kept their feet.  I was somewhat unfortunate in my horse Alat, who was blind in one eye, so that I always had to guide him over difficult places.  This kept me for ever on the alert, and became trying.  At every hut we pulled up and asked for milk, but invariably got “Nema” (I have none) for an answer.  The Montenegrins are singularly laconic at times.

Now began a long descent, so atrocious that we had to dismount and climb down on foot, leaving the horses to pick their way as best they could, and about seven p.m. we reached the house where we were to spend the night.  It consisted of two rooms, a kitchen and a bedroom, the sole furniture of the latter consisting of two wooden bedsteads.

There was no food, except a half lamb, which Stephan had brought on the pack-horse, and its condition was unpleasant from its many hours’ exposure to the sun and attendant flies.  It took over an hour to cook, and by that time our ravenous hunger had passed, stilled by a few quarts of delicious milk.  The inn—­for such was the character of the house—­unlike similar institutions of more civilised lands, had neither accommodation for man nor beast.  There was no hay for our hungry horses, who had to wait for two hours while a man took an hour’s climb up a mountain to the next village and brought back a load of 45 kilos (100 lbs.) on his back.  A little thought can be given to this fact.  Suffice it to say that this lean and athletic man took off his shirt and literally wrung the sweat from it.  This, too, at the end of a long day’s work.  Part of the hay served for our beds, and little enough it seemed too.

P. and I were given the two beds, or rather we were forced to take them, and I turned in at once, after looking at the mutton broth, and fell asleep immediately.  In the night I was awakened by a child crying in the room, and in the dim light I was startled to see the floor—­empty when I went to bed—­strewn with sleeping figures.

A heap that I rightly guessed was the doctor, moved uneasily.