The shooting was moderately good.

As the last shot had been fired, and some of us already mounted, a corporal from Andrijevica came up at a trot, bringing a telegram for the adjutant.  It contained the notification of his promotion to a captain.

This led to a salvo of revolver-shots and cheers, and we proceeded on our way.

At the first khan (Morina) we stopped for coffee, and found two or three hundred men assembled under the command of the district captain.  Had anything happened to us, revenge would have come very quickly.  Here our additional escort left us, and our long ride home was commenced, which ended in the dark.

It was a nasty ride, for both P. and Stephan’s horses came down repeatedly, and the path was constantly about two hundred feet above the Lim.  It requires care in the daytime, but in the uncertain light of evening it was distinctly dangerous.  Both horses were done up, and Stephan lost his temper, and we saw him in his true colours, as he kicked and beat his unlucky animal.  It was not till I took very energetic measures that he would stop, which amused the Voivoda immensely.

[Illustration:  MORINA]

[Illustration:  THE FUGITIVE OF VELIKA]

[Illustration:  THE VASOJEVICKI KOM]

[Illustration:  ALBANIANS AND MONTENEGRINS AT ANDRIJEVICA]

P.’s horse was ill—­in fact, it was his last journey.  A few days afterwards he died from inflammation of the lungs, contracted at Velika that day.

We went for a few days’ shooting on the Vasojevicki Kom, and were handed over by the Voivoda to one called Vaso, a rich peasant of the district.  He swore to be answerable for our safety, with his head and all that was his, and we lived with him for many days on the side of the mighty mountain.

The shooting was not good, however; it was not the season, but otherwise our stay was very pleasant.  The grassy plateau was about five thousand feet high and bitterly cold at night; below us, on either side, stretched great beech forests, and the Kom rose abruptly before us.

Our hut was large and roomy, but draughty to an extreme.  At night the icy wind whistled through its crevices, and we had to bury our heads in blankets.  The whole family shared it with us, and in one corner stood an unwearied calf, too tender to brave the cold of the outside.

Those evenings which we spent round the fire are impossible to describe adequately.  Tired from a long day’s tramping and sliding through the forests, often wet to the skin from heavy showers, the peace and warmth of that camp fire were delightful.

The shepherds came from far and near, and asked us many questions:  if we carried an apparatus for making banknotes (this is not meant as an insult, but a common belief that Europeans can fabricate their paper-money at will—­a belief of which we had sadly to disillusionise them); if our glasses could show us Belgrade, and so on—­questions sometimes so difficult to answer that we had to give them up.  Then they would talk of themselves; the older men would tell of past deeds, of fighting and bloodshed, and the fitful glow of the fire would light up their animated faces and picturesque costumes.