We left next day, and had a hearty send-off from the town, who turned out en masse to witness our departure.  The local doctor was not present.  We had found no favour in his eyes.

Shortly after leaving the town we passed the Montenegrin Militia, hard at their weekly drill.  No uniform is worn, every man coming in his everyday clothes, bringing only his rifle.  But they drill very well and the discipline is excellent.  A company was being dismissed as we came up, and a large number accompanied us for a long way.

The ride was magnificent that afternoon.  The way wound up and up, and our last glimpse of Kolasin showed us the little town far away below us.

The usual Montenegrin trick was again played successfully on us, the “only two hours’ ride” developing into a journey of six hours.  But to-day we did not murmur; it is only at the end of a long and trying day that this style of humour is out of place.

For two hours our path threaded its way through dense beech forests.  At one spot P. and I had ridden on so far in advance of the others that we dismounted and waited for them to come up.  In the interval I was assailed by a man with a bandaged head.  Doctors always wear European clothes in Montenegro, and without further inquiry, this man proceeded to sit down before me and remove his bandages, disclosing ultimately a ghastly eye.

“What must I do for it, Gospodin Doctor?” he asked at length, for beyond the usual greeting he had not spoken.  One glance was sufficient, and P. got up and left us.

“Take it away!” I said, with averted face.  “I am not a doctor, and never shall be.”

I felt him looking at me with his uninjured eye.  These simple peasants are always under the impression that our modern education comprises that of medicine.

“But, Gospodin, it has been like this for weeks,” he went on, “and is very painful.”

“There is a doctor at Kolasin.  Go to him. He will be pleased.”

Evidently much hurt at my indifference, he slowly replaced his bandages and departed.  Then our party caught us up, and we continued our way.

Later on we emerged from the woods, and, still climbing, we rode for the remaining distance on magnificent grassy slopes far above the forest belt.  Several snow-patches still lay unmelted in the shady hollows, and often far below us.  From this ridge we obtained our first good view of the lofty Kom, the second highest mountain in Montenegro, and our ultimate destination.

These great downs, across which we rode, had been only thrown open to the public, so to say, a few days ago, and were full of flocks of sheep and goats and large herds of cattle, grazing to their hearts’ content after their long winter’s imprisonment in the villages below.  The Government fix the date when the shepherds may migrate into the mountain pasturages and when they must leave again for the lowlands.