ride to
Velika--The fugitive from a blood-feud and his story--We arrive at
Velika--The men of Velika--The menu--Border jurisdiction--A
shooting-match--The Kom--Pleasant evenings--A young
philosopher--Sunset.

One evening the Voivoda invited us to ride with him on an official
visit to Velika, an offer which we eagerly accepted.

Velika is a narrow strip of Montenegrin territory lying practically in
Albania, or rather Gusinje, for the men of Gusinje owe and give no
allegiance. Velika is not cut off from Montenegro, but the mountain
connecting it with, so to speak, the mainland is steep and almost
inaccessible, besides entailing a long and weary detour of many hours.
Therefore our path to-day would lead us across an intervening strip of
Gusinje territory.

Next morning at an early hour saw us in our saddles, the Voivoda
having first ascertained that our arms were in good order. "Not that
there is any danger," he said. "But we never know if anything may
happen, and it is well just to be prepared."

Besides the Voivoda, we were accompanied by his adjutant, a
lieutenant in the standing army, who had studied in Italy, and an
escort of about six men, armed with modern magazine rifles. Later on,
this escort was materially increased.

About three hours' ride up the magnificent valley of the Lim brought
us to a khan, and here we found another half-dozen men awaiting us,
and another officer. These preparations seemed rather formidable for a
journey of about an hour through a friendly country, but we knew
already the uncertainty of the Albanian temper, and did not wonder.

As we led our horses across a rickety wooden bridge, the Voivoda
called to us and said we were now about to enter Albania, and spoke of
the temporary armed alliance between England and Montenegro, which
remark seemed to please him greatly. A great cairn of stones marked
the border, and the adjutant reined in his horse, for we were going to
ride in single file, to tell us that it would be better to unsling our
carbines. "It looked better," he said. Many Albanians could be seen
working peacefully in their fields, and huts dotted the
mountain-sides. It was a scene of agricultural peace, enhanced by
magnificent scenery.

Suddenly, at some distance, two rifle-shots were distinctly heard, and
the calm of the picture was as rudely and suddenly disturbed as if an
earthquake had happened. The peaceful peasants stooped, throwing away
the spade, and in exchange