wall-like ridge extending from the Moine to the Verte, we halted for a quarter of an hour hoping that the swaying of the mists would enable us to see something of our mountain. But the great dark curtain clung steadfastly round it, and nothing was visible on that side. In the other direction, however, we had a marvellous vision of the Grandes Jorasses, half veiled in films of floating cloud. Far on high we could even see the lighter and loftier streamers sailing before a gentle northerly wind. Cheered by this hopeful sign we tramped along the glacier shelf till we were pulled up by a short but steep step in the ice. After a little work with the axe we gained its upper level, and were rewarded, the mists having meanwhile somewhat lifted, by a clear view of the rocks by which we hoped to gain the ridge.
At the point where the true peak of the Verte begins to tower up above the long turreted ridge of the Moine, a great buttress projects far into the Talêfre glacier. Between this buttress and the Moine ridge is a semicircular hollow, divided from top to bottom by a long rib of rock. On either side of this are snow-filled couloirs, and we trusted that by one or other of them, or the dividing rib, we might make our way to the ridge. So far as we could see, no very serious difficulty was likely to be encountered, though as all the upper rocks and all the ridge were still obstinately shrouded in a fog
