THROUGH WILD EUROPE 245 



little town of Dulcigno looked very familiar when we 

 first sighted the bay from the summit of the hill, and 

 began our descent through the narrow, stony lane. 



However, I was sorry to find that the Albergo 

 Athanase, which last year was on the shore, had 

 removed to near the Custom House, whose portly 

 official, revolver in belt, passed all my luggage with a 

 wave of his hand, without even opening one of them. 



Signora Draga, the patrone, and the fair, or rather 

 the dark, Melitza gave me a hearty welcome, and 

 appeared delighted to have me once more under 

 their roof, where they allotted me a comfortable 

 enough room. But I missed here the serenade of 

 the waves on the beach, which used to lull me to 

 sleep in the little balconied room in my old quarters. 

 However, it was very pleasant thus returning to so 

 many old acquaintances. I felt that I was among 

 friends again, which is not a bad feeling to have in 

 a foreign country. 



But as soon as I had settled down and begun to 

 get my belongings unpacked and in order, I missed 

 my revolver. I knew I had had it on the boat 

 while landing, because I had compared it with that 

 belonging to a Montenegrin, who had one of a 

 similar make, but now it couldn't be found anywhere. 

 The Montenegrins have the reputation of being 

 strictly honest — it is said, indeed, that you could 

 leave a purse of gold on the highway for days and 



