ud and stumbled into a house full of
lattice work, like a Chinese store. Startled we tried another. This time
we came into a stable, but there was a ladder leading upwards, and at
the top a lighted room, so we decided to explore. We climbed up and came
into a large loft in which six long legged, heavily bearded Albanians
were squatting about a fire; a gipsy woman with wild tousled hair and
hanging breasts was in the corner of the hearth, and was telling some
long monotonous tale. An Albanian, who spoke Serb, told us to come in
and have coffee. It was like the illustration of some tale from the
Arabian Nights. After a while we climbed out again into the night, and
went home. Ramases hung about shyly, and the woman explained that he had
nowhere to sleep; so we arranged that she should house him also.

Even as we poked our noses out of the door there was a promise of a fine
day. Below us we could see the Pasha up and superintending the packing
of his family and furniture. We celebrated by opening our last tin of
jam, which we had carried carefully all the way, waiting for an
occasion. We left the remains of the jam for the small family, and as we
were mounting we saw their faces smeared and streaked with "First
Quality Damson." We started the climb almost at once. The early morning
smoke filtering through the slats made an outer cone, of faint blue,
above the black roof of every hut and cottage; here and there were
traces of roadmaking, groups of Albanian workmen on stretches of
levelled earth which our trail crossed at irregular intervals. Presently
we entered the clouds, and were wrapped about with a thin mist faintly
smelling of smoke. After a while we climbed above them, and looking down
could see the clouds mottling all the landscape, and through holes
little patches of sunlit field or wood peering through like the eyes of
a Turkish woman through her yashmak.

Our horses panted and sweated up the long and arduous slope for two
mortal hours, up and ever up; but all things come to an end, and at last
we reached the top. We sat down to rest our weary animals and, lo! by us
passed long strings of mules and ponies bearing the very benzine about
which so much fuss had been made in Cettinje. Alas for our reputations
as miracle workers! Had this blessed stuff only come a week later we
should even have passed in Montenegro as first cousins of the king at
least; but this was a little too prompt.

There was landscape enough he