which formed a sort of line of demarcation between the great northern buttress and the main mass of the mountain. Unluckily the mists obstinately clung to this gully, and after waiting two hours the lengthening shadows suggested the propriety of an immediate retreat. I got back to camp just as the twilight was deepening into the gloom of night, and found a blazing fire and hot soup, and a scene more strange and picturesque than ever delights the eye of the modern hut dweller.
Hastings and Collie had unearthed a ruined châlet, and out of its débris had built a drainlike construction, which, skilfully roofed with the ground sheet of the tent, they averred, would make splendid sleeping quarters. Slingsby and I, with our usual magnanimity, expressed our willingness to put up with the inferior accommodation of the tent. From various remarks at breakfast the next morning—or ought I to say the same night?—I inferred that our generosity had not been without its reward.
We started at 1.45 a.m. The sky was cloudless, and the stars shone with that steady light which is the surest sign of perfect weather. We picked our way along the slopes, skilfully led by Collie and Slingsby, till we reached an old moraine. Following this to its extreme head, at 3 a.m. we traversed on to the glacier just above the point where it makes a more or less unsuccessful attempt at an ice fall. In order
