eagerness, and such the quick access by the new wagon road. The following day we moved our camp up into Zinc gulch; starting in summer heat and meeting a chill blast with snow squalls as we arrived at our chosen camping spot shortly after noon. This camp was almost at the identical height of the bivouac of 1901, but south of the great peak. Dubious weather conditions prevailed for the rest of the day; but we turned in early with good hopes for the morrow, which were dashed about two o'clock by Kaufmann's report that it was snowing. Morning revealed a picture more appropriate to Christmas than to mid-July. The evergreens were bearing wintry loads of wet snow, and the grey sky gave little promise of good weather. In any event, Goodsir was secure from assault for the present; for how long it was impossible to say. Many inches must have fallen higher up, and, of course, prudence counselled awaiting its disappearance. We had come relying on steady atmospheric conditions, intending to make quick work of it, and so were scantily furnished with supplies. Fortunately, Nixon, our outfitter, had come along with us on his handsome grey, rather for an outing than for business. After a brief council, he was despatched back to Leanchoil to send up supplies for a prolonged siege. It was now or never.
As the day wore on, the sun came out, and to our great relief, we saw the clinging snows on the peak diminish hour by hour, as we studied it in a practice-climb to the col joining "Little Goodsir"—the third "Sister"—to Zinc mountain, whose crags rose above our camp on the south. It was soaring just above these that the waning moon looked down on our party on the following morning—July 16th—as we prepared our breakfast. By the first good daylight we were under way. The first hour was similar to that of our climb of two years before, and led us up to our roping place on that occasion. In general, our course from
