“Doctor,” I said softly, “are you awake?”

“Yes,” came the answer.  “A small child has evidently mistaken me for its father or mother.  Will you have it?”

I feigned sleep.

Other figures were snoring peacefully and emphatically, but the tiny inmates of my hay bed were painfully awake and sleep seemed banished.  However, I must have slept again, for when I awoke the room was empty, except for Stephan, who was packing up.  We had a wash in the stream and made a hurried breakfast, and were off by a fairly early hour.  Stephan had found a horse, which must have come as a blessing to him.  He had walked yesterday about thirty miles.  The path was much better to-day, and we were enabled to make better pace.  At a small village named Lijeva Rijeka we made a long halt to allow the doctor to transact some official business.  We ate up what meat we had left, and had great fun with the village big-wigs.

Strangers are beings of rare occurrence in the mountains, and we always came in for much “courteous curiosity.”  Dr. S. and Stephan enjoyed answering inquiries as to who we were immensely.  One time we were engineers making plans for the new road; another time we were enterprising merchants about to open up the country; and once a man remarked, when he was told that I was the British Minister, “And wears patched trousers?” He referred to the knee pads of my riding-breeches.

Our arms, as was only natural to this fighting race, attracted great interest.  The carbines, of the Austrian Mannlicher system, invariably went the round to a chorus of delighted appreciation.  Likewise our field-glasses, through which they would look for hours.

Shortly after leaving this village we had a fortunately short but exceedingly steep hill to climb, which brought us on to a magnificent plateau of rich green grass, carpeted with wild flowers.  From this point onwards the scenery changed completely.  We were in the Alpine regions.  It was very beautiful, the trees covered every hill with a mass of green foliage, and every here and there a snow-capped mountain peak would appear.  Not only was the scenery different, but the dwellings of the peasants took quite another style of architecture; conical thatched roofs of a height out of all proportion to the size of the house, and a massive verandah or loggia built into the house, The inhabitants are snowed up for many months every year, and have to lay in great stores of food.  But how delightful it must be here in winter!  What an opportunity for snow-shoeing!  The peasants can do the journey to Podgorica in about half the time on their primitive snow-shoes.

The ride from here to Kolasin was nearly perfection.  We skirted rushing mountain torrents, through woodland glades and soft green swards; the air was glorious and cool, for though the sun was powerful there was an abundance of shade.  One drawback, however, a drawback sufficient to mar our happiness, was not denied us.  Every mile or so we had to plunge through a quagmire, equal to the worst South African mudhole, which is saying a great deal.  Much care had to be exercised to prevent the horses getting fairly bogged or breaking their legs, but all passed without an accident, though our condition at the end of the day was awful.  We were bespattered from head to foot.