We commenced climbing almost directly, and the ascent lasted for the rest of the day.  The scenery was grand.  On our right the majestic Kom, still covered with snow; falling away precipitously to the left was the deep ravine of Terpetlis, through which a mountain torrent dashed; and rising high on the other side, and forming the boundary between Montenegro and Albania, was a magnificent rocky ridge.  We dismounted at one point to breathe our horses, and made our midday meal off wild strawberries.

Further on we passed from the Vasovic into the Kuc.  These two, the most warlike clans of Montenegro, were formerly under Turkish rule, and bitter foes.  But when war broke out, they forgot their old enmity and joined hand-in-hand with Montenegro to drive out the still more hated Turk.  Since then they have lived together in peace and harmony.

On nearing our camping-ground for the night, our two guards ran on to draw the fire from any concealed Albanians, while we followed more leisurely.  The scenery was wild in the extreme, though differing very slightly from that which we had experienced during the last few weeks.  Great woods stretched half-way down the mountain to the torrent, and up again on the further side.  Immense boulders, with an occasional tree growing out of a crevice, and every here and there clumps of firs, every yard affording excellent cover for a hidden enemy.

Our destination was Carina, a collection of stone huts on an open green slope, which reaches up to the rocky sides of the Kom.  It is the highest point inhabited in Montenegro by the shepherds in the summer, and lies over five thousand feet above the sea-level.  During this period of the annual migration to the hills, the district is comparatively safe.  The Albanians do not attack large parties, but rather stragglers, as larger numbers have an unpleasant habit of organising themselves into avenging bands to repay the visit with interest.

Not a soul was to be seen anywhere, not a living being of any description.  In a shower of pelting rain we took possession of the largest hut.  It is decidedly annoying to get thoroughly wet at the end of a long day, and the prospect of a night in damp clothes was in no way pleasing.  The hut was damp and cold, and it had the chilly feeling which only comes from a long period of emptiness, and strikes to the marrow.  But our men turned to with a will, cleaning out the hut, strewing it with very wet rushes, and piling up a big log-fire in the middle.  We were pretty hungry, too, a couple of eggs at six a.m. and a few strawberries at midday are not much to go on, and we had been in the saddle for over ten hours.  Stephan had brought amongst other things some raw bacon, which he gave me, but, hungry as I was, I could not face that.  Later on, a happy thought struck me, and I went and toasted it over the fire.  I do not recollect ever relishing food so much in my life.  About a couple of hours later a lamb had been roasted, and we were able to make a decent meal.