wading, and my feet were soaked for the rest of the day. Emerging at length from this dismal swamp, we mounted the steep snow-slopes above, heading for the notch that separates Catamount from Bagheera. Midway were found beautiful waves of red snow, varying from pink on the crests to crimson in the troughs. This curious phenomenon is due to the presence of a tiny alga, which also accounts for the green snow elsewhere. Scrambling up the rock-work at the head of these slopes, we bore to the left of the notch till we reached the arête. Henceforth we had nothing but good sound rocks to the finish. Steadily working upwards, the projecting eastern point came into view, and seemed at first to be the promised summit; but climbing to it, the centre peak rose some 200 feet above us, looking quite imposing and Doigt de Dieu-like, as seen edge-wise from below. It had been hot work with the sun on one's back all the way, but Feuz frowned on all suggestions of rest and tobacco, and we again attacked the arête. This was largely composed of blocks of white and black marble, and gave firm and generous holds for hand and foot. We soon stepped over the edge of the little platform that formed our Hochste Spitze, and I stood for the first and probably the last time on a virgin peak (9106 feet). Here we found a little breeze, and sat down to enjoy the magnificent view. Far to the north stretched the endless snow-peaks that the Swiss range hides from the Glacier side. Sir Donald presented the grandest view of himself and his satellites that I was privileged to enjoy. Nearer at hand, across a big gulf, rose the eastern peak, of almost equal height (9096 feet). The air was clear as crystal, though two days later from the top of Sir Donald we could hardly see twenty miles away.
When inner cravings had been satisfied, we built an artistic cairn, took some photographs, and prepared
