But we gradually left this funereal waste beneath us, and groping upwards once more through virgin forest, at last succeeded in regaining the ridge of Troghìr. We even hit on our lost path, but it soon eluded us again and disappeared beneath the wrecks of tall pine-trees, which seemed to have buried all traces of it. For here, if a fallen tree bars the path, the Bosniac woodman does not cut it away, but either climbs over it, or, if the obstacle is too high for man or beast to surmount, he deserts the track altogether and makes another elsewhere. Thus the forest barricades are gradually allowed to accumulate till they reach dimensions simply stupendous, and the path which originally swerved a few yards out of its course may eventually be turned as much as a mile. But we had learnt a lesson about trusting to paths which, while still smarting from the effects of our second ascent of Troghìr, we were not likely to neglect; so this time we followed the guidance of our compass as literally as we could, scaling barrier after barrier till we were well nigh worn out. No one, I think, who has not himself tried to penetrate a primeval forest on a windy mountain ridge, can realize what these obstacles really are! It was late in the afternoon when we conquered our last barricade, and to our delight beheld before us the smooth lawny swell which forms the summit of the Vučia Planina, from which the Troghìr is an offshoot. An easy ascent brought us to the top, where we rested awhile to enjoy the glorious mountain panorama that opened out all round. We are now in the very heart of Alpine Bosnia, ‘each one of whose lofty mountains,’ to quote the words of her native historian,[186] ‘exalted to Ayuk, the fiery star, is an eyesore to the foe.’ But the traveller must make allowance for Oriental hyperbole. Here, at least, the mountains were contented with a less sidereal stature; nor was there much that could even be called rocky or precipitous except the head of Vlašić to the south, which peered over lower mountain shoulders and conical peaks, shrouded, as the long neck of Troghìr below us, as all the other Goras and Planinas round, with dense forest growth. To call the scenery Swiss would be mere flattery; indeed, its whole character, the small height of the mountains, the want of boldness, the down-like swell of their contours, recalls rather the Carpathians than any part of the Alps that I have seen. The summit of Vučia, on which we now are, is inconsiderable as regards altitude, not being more than 4,300 feet, according to our aneroid, though, to be sure, the Major makes it 5,000—for the sake of round numbers. There is something Carpathian, too, about the forests, the gigantic pines and beeches, and—as might be expected from the commonly calcareous nature of the soil—in the flora generally. Here, as in the ranges that border Roumania, the drooping gentian, the sweet-william, and the sunflower are among the most noticeable flowers.