other time, we said. And with that uncertain comfort he was
forced to be content.

"But," he said, "the money which you have so generously given us and
the prisoners has been expended on 'raki' (local spirits). We and the
prisoners will pray for your souls for many nights ere we sleep."

As we drove up the ascent from the town towards our new destination,
we glanced back at the red-roofed little capital and noticed the low,
grey stone building of the prison.

"We ought to sleep well to-night," remarked P., nodding towards it.

It is something to be prayed for, even if only by criminals of the
quarrelsome type.

CHAPTER V

The view from Bella Vista--New scenery--Promiscuous shooting--The
market in Rijeka--The shepherds--Their flocks--Wayside
hospitality--The plain of the Zeta--The Moraca--The Vizier bridge--Old
war-marks--First and last impressions of Podgorica.

The drive from Cetinje to Rijeka, and from thence till the final
descent to Podgorica, is quite as fine as any other part of
Montenegro. For about twenty minutes after leaving Cetinje the road
climbs and attains its greatest altitude on this tour, and at its
highest point--only half an hour's walk from the town--possesses one
of the most striking and beautiful views. It is rightly called "Bella
Vista," and a shelter hut and chairs are thoughtfully provided for the
visitor.

A wonderful panorama meets his eye as he suddenly reaches the top. A
fantastic sea, as it were, of hills, like the waves of a storm-tossed
ocean, encircles him, and at his feet, green and wooded, lies a long
fertile valley. Stretching far away into the gates of distance in its
vast expanse, glitters the Lake of Scutari. Round a small dim spur of
land running into the lake, lies Scutari itself, which is, however,
not visible. To the left a forbidding chain of magnificent mountains,
dwarfing the intervening hills into insignificance, fascinate him by
their repellent grandeur. Snow-clad, except in the height of summer,
these mountains seem symbolical of the land they border, that savage
and unknown Albania. A glimpse of a green valley below can just be
caught, there lies Podgorica, our destination. At our feet a long,
low-lying plateau ends abruptly in a wall of rock, through which the
road vanishes, and which can be traced white and threadlike on the
overhanging hillside. Beyond is the valley and town of Rijeka. The
mountains to the right are the Rumija, behind whose naked com