Such of the chieftains as refused to make their submission were pursued without mercy, until the province became too hot to hold them. A few, too proud or too obstinate to yield, took refuge in the Herzegovina, where Ali Rizvan Begovitch, then an old man, opened his fortresses to them. But all resistance was vain before the iron will and temperate judgement of Omer. Mostar fell, and old Ali was made a prisoner and sent in chains to Serayevo. That place he never reached, for he was shot, accidentally it is alleged, by a Turkish soldier while on his way thither. The circumstances of his death will hardly bear an enquiry, and do not reflect much credit on the successful Omer, to whom the blame, as well as the glory he acquired in all else, must attach. It is true that the old tyrant fully deserved his fate, since even to this day the enormities which he committed are well remembered. The old tower on the Narenta at Mostar used to look grim with the distorted heads of the prisoners whom he had captured on the Montenegrin frontier. The habit of decapitating the dead was revolting enough, but this aged sinner was not satisfied with that: he used to drive sharp wooden poles through their living bodies, and then leave them to die a lingering and agonising death. Some are said to have survived their impalement as much as forty-eight hours. The example set by the Pacha was readily followed by those about him. Numerous are the tales of murder done by his followers, one of whom vied with his master in deeds of murder and ferocity. This man, the Cavass Bashee, lived entirely by plunder and rapine. A spot was pointed out to me in the valley of the Drechnitza where a Christian was killed by him while stooping down to drink. I also heard an amusing anecdote regarding him, when he was completely outwitted by a poor lame Christian. The latter was riding through a river, where the stream was somewhat rapid. On the river's bank he was overtaken by the Cavass Bashee, who allowed him to reach the middle of the stream, when he ordered him to dismount, threatening to shoot him if he did not comply. In vain he pleaded his lameness; the ruffian was obdurate. Nothing remained but to obey. This he did, and with difficulty reached the opposite bank. The Mussulman followed, but scarcely had he reached the deep water when the Christian, who carried a pistol concealed, drew it, and, aiming at his persecutor, ordered him to dismount under pain of death. So aghast was he at this audacious effrontery, that he not only obeyed, but departed without farther comment, leaving the Christian master of the field. Whether he took warning from Ali Pacha's fate is unknown, but he certainly died in the odour of sanctity, after performing a pilgrimage to Mecca.