Podgorica for supper to be delayed till ten.

A hundred yards from the town we stopped, and the driver mended some
harness with a piece of wire. A mile further on something else broke.
If nothing gave way, a horse kicked a leg over a trace, necessitating
its partial unharnessing. Each time the driver (he of the morning's
drive and a native of Hercegovina) descended, swearing softly between
clenched teeth, in caressing tones, and his face set in a forced
smile. If we had not understood what he said, he might have been
addressing endearing remarks to his horse, or holding serious converse
with a friend.

It became very monotonous after a few hours--should we go for three
hundred yards without a stop of five or ten minutes, it was a matter
for comment. We began to feel alarmed, fearing worse things.

Rijeka we reached at eight p.m. instead of five, and we sent another
wire, stating our arrival to be uncertain, if not improbable.

We seriously contemplated staying the night, but an appointment next
morning forced us to give up this idea.

After an hour's rest we proceeded. The same weary repetition was
resumed, either the near side horse lashed out violently and remained
hung over a trace, or the axle boom or something broke.

We dozed, and I awoke from a sudden jar to find the driver sound
asleep, the horses wandering aimlessly along, a precipice of many
hundred feet below us on one side. The road takes sharp turns every
hundred yards, rendering it impossible to see far ahead, and traffic
even at night is not uncommon. Drivers shout when nearing a corner,
particularly on coming downhill, which they do at a great pace. I
shuddered at the thought of a carriage dashing suddenly round a
corner upon us as we painfully climbed, for our driver slept soundly.
I even shouted in his ear, but in vain. Then I struck him, and with
effect. Inured as we were already by the dangers of that drive, we
slept no more.

I looked at my watch; it was one o'clock. In another hour the look-out
hut of Bella Vista loomed up indistinctly, and we thought of that
grand view of the Lake of Scutari and the mountain panorama to be seen
from there.

We stopped all the way down into Cetinje, at intervals, and had a long
wait actually in the town itself while the driver hunted up a friend
and borrowed a spanner.

At three a.m. we arrived, and refused the offer of our driver to take
us down to Cattaro next day. He assured us that everything would b