I returned, therefore, to Cettinje, where I was now received as a tried friend. At the time of which I am now writing there were practically no roads in Montenegro but bridle-paths, over large stretches of which it was unsafe to ride, even the Montenegrins dismounting, whether going up or down. That passage between Cettinje and Rieka, on the Lake of Scutari, was one of the worst I have ever found in the principality. The lower part, nearing Rieka, was simply a Cyclopean stairway, with rocky steps so high that the horses had to _jump_ down from one to another. My cavalcade consisted of a Montenegrin soldier for guide, a Montenegrin student, and the horse-boy, necessary to lead the horses when, as was the case for a large part of the way, we could not ride them; and halfway down to Rieka we were overtaken by a deaf-mute porter, sent as a kind afterthought by the Prince, with a samovar and a provision of tea, sugar, etc., in view of the dearth of comforts beyond. I carried an order for shelter and such fare as was obtainable at Rieka, in the little house of the Prince at that village, and we passed a comfortable night, but found the succeeding day the opening of one of the spells of rainy weather of which only one who has lived in the principality much can know the inconvenience. To wait in the half-furnished house with no resources was worse than going out in the rain, although I had no protection other than a cape of my own manufacture, a circle of the thinnest india-rubber cloth, with a hole cut in the middle for my head, and covering my arms to the wrists.