“Our luck is good,” they answered, and following an imaginary fish with their rifles, they turned on him.

Crack!  Crack!  Gjolic was dead.

That scene I shall never forget.  The starless night, all round the land lying enshrouded in impenetrable darkness, the low voice of the Montenegrin which rose with his excitement, but sank again immediately to a hoarse whisper, and on the barely discernible roof of the hut a black figure, with rifle at the ready, sitting motionless.

It was eleven o’clock when I turned in, and the next man took his rifle and went outside to relieve one of the watchers.  A roaring fire was kept going, for it was very cold, and round it lay the others sleeping, each with his rifle and revolver by his head.  “And we are in Europe!” I said to myself, as I lay down to sleep, which, in spite of the mighty snoring of Dr. S., came almost immediately.

It seemed but a few minutes since I had closed my eyes when a shot rang out, bringing me to my knees in an instant.  It is not advisable to rise quickly in these huts without taking the roof into consideration, as I had learnt by bitter and repeated experience.  Everyone awoke, except Dr. S., who snored on peacefully.  However, I roughly awoke him, and we all dashed out, rifle in hand.

One of our sentries stood peering into the gloom, and swore that he had seen a figure moving.  We lay down and waited, but nothing came.

Then slowly the day began to dawn, and with it our anxiety diminished.  I went to get a cup of coffee, preparatory to climbing a part of the Kom.  One of our guards, of course, accompanied me.  That is the worst of these districts, we could never move a step without being followed.  It was like being under police surveillance.  Furthermore, I should have preferred to climb with a good stick; but no.  Again that iron control ordered me to take my carbine, and loaded too.

We reached a high ridge just in time to see the sun rise, and it lit up the snow-clad mountain-tops with an indescribable beauty.  But so much has been written about the splendours of Alpine sunrises that it is needless to say more about it.  Yet it was as beautiful as anything to be seen in Switzerland or the Tyrol.  The ridge commanded a view in both directions.  The Albanian Alps and the mountains behind the Moraca lay before us in one vast panorama, the latter looming up so close that it was difficult to believe that so many days’ hard riding lay between us.

After climbing one of the lower peaks, we descended again to our hut, which we reached shortly after six.  Everyone was busy, washing, packing up, or even sleeping, which is an equally important business.  To snatch half an hour’s sleep here and there is an enviable art, and cannot be overrated.  But, perched on a low stone wall, sat a guard all the time.  Daylight does not imply safety.

After breakfast, luxurious with toasted bacon, I emerged from the hut to find an excited group outside, one of whom was even lying down and aiming.