station, we climbed the well-made trail to the cabin which the railway company has built for the convenience of moutnaineers, thereby earning their heartfelt gratitude. We reached the cabin about nine p.m., with plenty of daylight left to boil the kettle and get comfortably fixed for the night.
At three o'clock Feuz gave the word to rise. A moment's struggle to realize where we were, and here at last was the great day. What mountaineer ever forgets that moment when he first opens the flap of his tent or the door of his hut and draws the breath of the mountain air, with the silence of the eternal hills about him? After a bite to eat, we struck off to the right, circling giant rocks and leaping small torrents, walking rapidly in the uncertain light. It was light when we reached the glacier, and clear enough to take photos when we reached the névé. The southern face, the broadside of Hermit, was directly before us. There appeared to be several feasible routes to the summit. The left or western side of the mountain rose in a sharp angle from the glacier; the eastern side was a long arête of easy grade and apparently afforded a sure, if long, route to the peak. Mr. Wheeler has included in his splendid set of maps—the second volume of his great work on the Selkirks—a fine drawing of Mts. Rogers and Hermit, and has in it marked our route on Hermit as lying along this eastern arête. That is the obvious route, and Mr. Wheeler is in no way to blame for the mistake. Feuz chose another and far more interesting mode of attack. A narrow and steep couloir leads up the face of the mountain from the névé, from which it is separated by a bergschrund. We put on the rope, crossed the cleft by a bridge at the right, worked across to the centre of the couloir, and at once commenced its steep ascent. This was a fine climb on good, stiff snow, and, though at the top somewhat alarmingly steep, was sure and safe.
