Nothing very extraordinary, I remarked inwardly. Doomed to live in such an out-of-the-world place as Skodra would be sufficient to drive any European to take his life. Of brigandage, Vatt Marashi told me that they held up but few travellers nowadays, and only, indeed, when there was necessity. Yet a year or two ago they held the worst reputation of any of the tribes. One day while we were climbing the rocks—for Vatt and his bodyguard thought that they might get a shot at a bear—there was a sudden alarm. The hawk’s eyes of my companions espied strangers, and a sudden halt was called. In a moment we were all under cover of the rocks. Every man unslung his rifle, and Vatt himself, with knit brows, drew his big pistol with silver butt, while I crouched behind a rock with my rifle ready, expecting something to happen. Nothing, however, did happen, for a few moments later there were shouts from the opposite side of the defile, answered by my companions, who came forth and waved their rifles over their heads as sign of greeting. Vatt, replacing his pistol in his belt, spoke in a loud, sharp voice, and received an answer. Those mountaineers can throw their voices long distances, and be heard distinctly, a fact I often noticed. Then Palok told me that the strangers were of the neighbouring tribe, the Kastrati, and that their chief, Dêd Presci, had come to pay Vatt a visit. For me this was fortunate, for it gave me an opportunity of meeting the other ruler of Northern Albania; for next to the Skreli the Kastrati are most powerful in the Accursed Mountains. [Illustration: MRIKA, the woman who carried on the blood-feud.] Half an hour later we met our visitors. Dressed very similarly to my companions, they wore white tassel-less fezes instead of the little white skullcap, and the black stripes down their trousers were somewhat different. The two chieftains touched foreheads, and I was afterwards introduced. Dêd Presci, a round-faced, pleasant man, rather stout and burly, his hair cut in mediæval style, gripped me warmly by the hand, saying— “I heard that you were in Skodra during the _festà_. Some of my men told me there was an Englishman. But I never expected to meet you. Perhaps you are coming across to see me—eh? If so, you are quite welcome.” “I may come next year to shoot, with a couple of English friends. May I visit you then?” “Most certainly. You have only to warn me of your coming through one of our men down in Skodra, and I will give you safe escort,” was his reply. “If you are fond of sport, you will find plenty with us. Only bring a tent, and perhaps some provisions; for our food is not what you foreigners are used to.” “Then I shall return one day before long,” I promised. “Do. You need fear nothing, you know. We never betray a friend.” “Or forgive an enemy,” added Vatt, laughing. “Especially if he be a Turk,” I remarked; whereat both chiefs laughed in chorus.