of the seven
hours' journey in acute discomfort and the latter part in torture.

In spite of his throat the Sirdar did nearly all the talking. The
country we were passing through were scenes of his battles: with one arm
he threw a company over this hill, with a hand, nearly hitting Jan in
the eye, he marched an army corps along that valley; he explained how he
had been forced to give up the Ministry of War because there was no
other efficient commander for the north.

A blue ridge of pine trees appeared on our right hand.

"You see those hills," said the Sirdar: "I'll tell you the story of a
reply of mine, a funny reply. I ordered a general last winter to march
across those hills. He said that the troops would starve. I looked him
in the eye. Then you will eat wolves, I shouted. He went."

If we passed peasants he stopped them. He seemed to have an
extraordinary memory for names and faces.

"Never forget a face," he said, "never forget its name. That is the
secret of popularity."

He was very anxious that we should go to Cettinje and to Scutari. He
kindly promised to see about it, to arrange for our horses and to have
our passage telegraphed before us. At Podgoritza he said a government
motor-car should wait for us. He advised us to make a detour from the
straight road and to see the famous black lake of Jabliak and the
Dormitor mountains. We thanked him gratefully. He waved our thanks
aside.

"And I will write to my friend the Minister of War. He will arrange that
you go to Scutari." He then explained all the reasons why Montenegro
should hold Scutari when the war was over.

"It was ours," he said; "we only gave it up to Venice so that she should
protect us from the Turk. If we do not hold Scutari, Montenegro can
never become a state, so if we cannot keep her we might as well give up
Cettinje. After all we are but taking back what was once ours."

He was daily expecting the uniforms from Russia, and asked every soldier
on the road for news. At last one said that he had seen them.

"The stuff is rather thin, your excellency, but the boots are splendid."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI

NORTHERN MONTENEGRO

We were accosted by a clean-limbed, joyous youth, who bore on his cap
the outstretched winged badge of the police. He said--

"Mister Sirdar, he tell me take you alon' o' Nickshitch."

Sure enough the next morning there he was, with three horses, which if
not the identical animals of our Cha