torm came on, and deluges of rain, keeping us here for about
an hour, when it cleared up sufficiently to proceed. Our landlord at
Dulcigno had packed us up a meal with a bottle or two of wine at our
orders, and we, now being hungry, inspected the basket. It was, to put
it mildly, distinctly disappointing, and not fit to eat or drink.
Added to this, my hunting knife was stolen, and we were very glad to
get on again.

The rest of the ride was the reverse of monotonous. The path was now
as slippery as grease, and our horses floundered at every other step,
and at times we plashed through quagmires, and became bespattered from
head to foot. Several men passed us with rifles slung over their
shoulders, but interchanged salutations with our guard. With the
exception of one small revolver, we were unarmed and practically
helpless. A short time after our ride through this district, a
stranger was killed. It is very unfair to refuse foreigners the
permission to carry any arms through such dangerous parts, when it is
considered a disgrace to go unarmed by the inhabitants. Our saddles,
too, were beginning to cause us much discomfort. After the first few
hours on a Turkish saddle, every movement of the horse becomes agony.

We reached the outskirts of Scutari about seven hours after our start,
and the town is entered by a great bridge. But before coming to the
bridge we rode through a great assembly of Albanians, judging from
their different costumes, from every part of the country, with their
flocks and herds for the market. The men were lying about singly or in
groups, sometimes under a rough tent, while the women attended to
their wants and to the flocks. Each man was heavily armed with rifle
and revolver, and turned lazily as we passed, with no friendly looks,
plainly intimating that we were intruders. Still they were fine,
fierce-looking men, though their expression is not nearly so
prepossessing as that of the Montenegrin. It was a strange scene of
life, but only one of many that abound in and about the capital of
Albania.

At the bridge we had to dismount and cross on foot, and a very painful
operation it proved after so many hours in the saddle.

The custom-house was situated immediately at the other end of the
bridge, and here we entered. In the guard-house, full of
disreputable-looking Turkish soldiers, were hung rifles and revolvers
on nails in great number and variety, which the mountaineers have to
leave on enterin