led us on to the Kien glacier face, where a convenient snow slope seemed to afford an easy, though not very expeditious, method of turning the obstruction.
The snow being in good condition we got over the ground quickly, but as we advanced the axe occasionally reached the underlying ice, and at last the snow dwindled down to an inch or less in thickness, and every step had to be hacked out of hard black ice. The cautious Alexander, thinking that it Was no longer a place in which an amateur should lead, unroped, and cutting a few steps below me, went to the front, and swung mighty blows against the relentless slope. It was desirable to go as fast as possible, for the rock above us was constantly sending its superfluous icicles and stones across our track, and we feared at every moment that larger missiles might follow, and sweep us with them in their mad flight of bounds and leaps to the gigantic blue crevasses far, far below. But the ice was hard, and Burgener was hampered by his wounded hand. Slowly we seemed to crawl along, and ever, when we reached rock, found nothing but smooth slabs, slippery with a glazing of ice. Wearily we plodded on. Fingers and feet had long since lost all sensation, and the only hope that buoyed our sinking spirits was the belief that, on passing a rib of rock not far in front, our difficulties would be at an end and the ascent
