It is very hilly, and the rock is, where we passed, a rotten slate which the rains and the torrents cut away rapidly, carrying the alluvium down to the plains and Lake of Scutari.

Digging and bridging, we reached, early in the afternoon, the village of Gornje-Rovtcha, and were then informed that it would be impossible to reach another habitation that day, and that the road passed through an immense forest infested by wolves, in which we should be compelled to sleep if we held on.

This I had no desire to try, remembering our experience with the shepherds on the first night out from Niksich.

So we passed the hours to the dark in shooting at a mark, and went to bed early.

The house which was selected to be honored by my repose, the best in the village, was of one room, from which the animals were excluded, with the usual floor of beaten earth.
A huge bedstead of small fir poles, the only important piece of furniture in it, was assigned to me, and the family--all women and children--spread their rugs on the ground.