To our right an extraordinary needle of rock blocked the ridge, whilst to the left a series of jagged spires suggested that we might, possibly, still find work to test our mettle. Happily it is one of the strong points of amateur parties that no fear for the future ever interferes with their enjoyment of the present, and we basked in sundry nooks, a whole world of glorious form and colour delighting our half-closed eyes, with never a thought beyond the restful beauty of the scene. Gradually, however, it became apparent that sharp stones and occasional cold blasts of wind interfered with that perfect bliss which it is the invariable object of the climber to attain, so we hailed with enthusiasm a suggestion of Collie's that we should make our way along the ridge to a wide shelf of broken rock, where perfect shelter and luxurious resting places could evidently be discovered (9.15 a.m.).
A sharp descent, followed by a hard climb up the precipitous flank of a needle-like spire, brought us to this delectable table-land. It is doubtful whether we should have ever been able to make up our minds to start—possibly we should have remained there even to this day, wrapped in all the pleasure of sun and air and sky—had not a consuming thirst laid hold upon us. Driven unwillingly forward by this fiend, we grappled in succession with the few obstructions still remaining. At no point did they become at all serious,
