My Body-guard in Northern Albania.
My Body-guard in Northern Albania.
My Body-guard in Northern Albania.
I parted from Vatt at the door of my so-calledalbergo. He took a glass ofrakhiwith me, and afterwards, with a hearty hand-grip, he told me not to forget my promise to return. Then he left me, stalking at the head of his armed band, whoone and all wished mebon voyage, and he went down the street on his return to his mountain home.
But the irony of Fate followed. A fortnight later I found myself riding with a strong military escort on the other side of the mountains, where I had been so hospitably entertained—along the frontier of the Skreli country.
It was growing dusk, and we were passing through a deep ravine, our horses stumbling at every step, when of a sudden the crack of a rifle startled us.
Next instant a dozen rifles flashed fire in the deep shadows to our left. The Skreli outposts were sniping at us!
In a moment we had all dismounted and sought cover, and for fully ten minutes returned their fire vigorously, while the officer of the escort kept up a volley of imprecations on the heads of my late hosts, who were, of course, in ignorance that they were firing upon “the Englishman.” We were too far off each other to do much harm, therefore we simply blazed away. I was crouched behind a rock with the muzzle of my rifle poked through a convenient crack, and fired towards the spot where the flashes showed.
A good deal of powder and bad language were expended, until at last our friends on the other side of the valley, apparently thinking we were too far away, ceased firing, and we of course did the same.
It was a mutual truce. For ten minutes longer we waited in order to see what would happen. Then, leading our horses, we crept carefully along on our way northward, out of the range of our friends’ guns.
Those moments were exciting, however, while they lasted, yet they were not without their grim humour.